


A DragonWolf and his Cannibal

by Jessicanightmarewolf1



Series: My stories where Jon is amazing, or weird things happen [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon and Rhaenys Targaryen Live, Alive Starks (ASoIaF), All Gods are connected, And he just wants his rider, BAMF Jon Snow, Because of their ancestors magic, Bisexual Sansa Stark, Blessed by Gods, But she will suffer because she kinda deserves it, But they should be dead, But they won't be the same, Cannibal is smart, Daenerys is the Princess Who Was Promised, Daenerys just wants to live in peace, Daenerys will hatch her dragons, Dark Jon Snow, Different types of Dragons, Dragon Eggs, Dragon Riders, Drowned God, Edmure Tully is a sweetheart, F/F, F/M, Faith of the Seven, Firebending & Firebenders, Jon Connington is a good parent, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon Snow is Azor Ahai, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon Snow's Name is Aemon, Jon is the Prince Who Was Promised, M/M, Magic, Mermaids, Multi, Nor are the gods, Not by the end of this at least, Oberyn Martell Flirts, Oberyn Martell Lives, Oberyn Martell is going to be one happy man, Other, R Plus L Equals J, Rhaenys isn't human anymore, Sea God, Sea Monsters, She ain't going to be a Lady, Sirens, Slight Catelyn bashing, The Others are not what they seem, The blackfish is definitely on the ace/aro spectrum, The tags might spoil a few things, United North, Valyria, Viserys Targaryen Lives, Viserys Targaryen Needs a Hug, Viserys just wants to protect his family, Warg Jon Snow, Warg Starks (ASoIaF), Water/Sea Dragons, Waterbending & Waterbenders, Westeros won't know what hit them, Wildlings - Freeform, but she makes up for it, kraken - Freeform, maybe demi?, the dragon must have three heads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24215983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessicanightmarewolf1/pseuds/Jessicanightmarewolf1
Summary: During Robb's seventh name-day bandits attack the Lords and their Heirs while they were hunting in the Wolfswood. Jon, in panic, gets away only to get lost in an area he isn't sure anyone knows of.All the while a creature who should long be dead makes his way to his rider.AU! Not anything like canon.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Daenerys Targaryen & Viserys Targaryen, Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark, Elia Martell/Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Elia Martell/Rhaegar Targaryen, Jon Snow & Aegon VI Targaryen & Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Jon Snow & Arya Stark, Jon Snow & Arya Stark & Bran Stark & Rickon Stark & Robb Stark & Sansa Stark, Jon Snow & The Others, Jon Snow/Aemon Targaryen & Cannibal, Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen
Series: My stories where Jon is amazing, or weird things happen [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937341
Comments: 131
Kudos: 769
Collections: Jon has Dragons





	1. Lost & Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I've had this idea for awhile now, so I'm going to write it.
> 
> This story is extremely AU and many things will be different from canon, changed or ignored for the sake of the story.  
> Lots of magic and the like will involved, but this is fanfiction so whatever.
> 
> Don't like it? Don't read it.

It had been a few weeks after Jon's seventh name-day, after Robb's own name-day celebration, when he met _him._

He had been with his father- _uncle_ \- and brother- _cousin_ \- and their bannermen when they had gotten separated. Bandits, he thought, seeing the unfamiliar men wielding weapons rush towards them.

No. Not him; Lord Stark and his heir, Robb. 

Jon was just a bastard (but he wasn't), a Lords bastard (even if he was he would be a _princes_ bastard), so maybe the men thought he would have _some_ importance?

The men were many, and with the fact that there were many people of high standing, Lords and Ladies and their Heirs, so Jon wondered if anyone had noticed he had disappeared? 

The bandits had chosen a good time to attack, as many Lords of the North, along with a few Southeron Lords, had all come together to celebrate the Warden of the Norths heirs name-day.

Jon had had to force himself to once more ignore the sharp pain in his chest as he saw the way everyone came to Robb's name-day. How everyone had congratulated him on turning seven, when his own name-day had not been that long ago.

Jon didn't want to sound spoilt, he really didn't. He knew their were others off far worse than him, those that went to bed hungry or cold.

But it didn't change how he felt. It didn't change the fact that all of his siblings had feasts thrown in their name, have gifts given to them that costed more than some small folk made in a year. But the worst part in Jon's opinion was that on all of the Stark children's name-days they were awoken from their slumber by Lord and Lady Stark; both kissing their children awake and congratulating them on another year of life, of being their child.

It hurt.

It hurt because Lord Stark never did that for him.

He had even said he didn't care, as long as he could know who his mother was.

And-

And he _refused!_

Jon didn't care how unmanly it was. He would admit that when lord Stark left (he hadn't came up to his bed, he had woken him up from his door) he had cried. Like a babe, an _ungrateful_ _bastard_ he had sobbed that he would never know, that he would likely die of old age not knowing if his mother was alive or who she was.

It had almost become routine. 

After everyday, Jon would go to his rooms (Lady Stark made him and Robb separate) and he would end up crying himself to sleep.

The nightmares didn't help either.

He would dream of the crypts, of ancient Stark Lords and Kings hissing insults, of their words. Not all of them, but most.

He had recognised uncle Brandon and aunt (mother) Lyanna, his aunt trying to reach him and shouting words that he couldn't hear, while his uncle did the same, except he seemed to fight off the other Stark's, lips moving in a way that Jon almost fooled himself to believe that his uncle was defending his right to be there, that he was their blood.

Some Stark's, ancient, with direwolves at their sides and feet giving him odd looks, like the looks some of his father bannermen gave him; ones of respect. 

What scared him the most about the dreams however were the others.

People with silver-blonde or white hair, eyes violet or purple, some like his Stark ancestors made moves to attack him or insult him. But he was always protected by an older women, one who always looked in the direction of a mournful looking man.

Jon never told anyone of his dreams, why would he? They'd just think him insane.

So here he was. On top of a horse, which felt easy to him, almost like second nature; running from bandits.

Honestly, Jon was surprised Lady Catelyn allowed him to come with the rest of the Lords. She had always tried to keep him out of sight.

The horse neighed loudly, drawing Jon's attention away from his thought and too his surroundings. 

He had never been this far into the Wolfswood before, hells, he didn't think anyone had! The path was uneven, roots and rocks making it impossible to ride, or walk properly.

The horse made another, more panicked sound and finally managed to get Jon of of it.

The horse made to run, ignoring the child's cry as he cut himself on some sharp rocks, in its blind panic it had ran hard and fast towards an unknown direction.

The horse had been listening to its instincts, one which had led it wrong it now knew.

This place was dangerous. 

Jon watched as the only thing which could take him back home, back to his family sped away. He looked around, lower lip trembling. 

The area was big and nearly empty. Mountains and caves and trees bigger than he had ever seen surrounded him.

Jon had enjoyed reading and learning. It was one of the only things he was allowed to do without looking like his was trying to usurp his siblings, according to lady Stark at least.

He had spent nearly entire days in the library, reading anything he could get his hands on.

One of which was survival.

Which, he thought looking down at the measly dagger and wooden sword he still had, the water pouch half empty on his person, was probably not going to help him.

He was a boy of seven years with barely any training.

Jon allowed the tears to slip, not caring that his brothers or Theon would make fun of him, saying that men didn't cry. Thoughts of his family made the lump in his throat harder to swallow.

He had no idea where he was. And he doubted the other Lords would search for a bastard, especially a stupid bastard who ran off in fear from a few measly bandits.

They were probably laughing, that the _stupid bastard snow_ got scared and ran.

He allowed the sobs to escape him. He was going to die.

Gods he was going to _die!_

The worst part however, as Jon curled in on himself, sobs getting louder, was that he would never get to know what having a mother was like, who she was, what she was like(a mothers kiss, her embrace, if she would sing to him).

He was never going to know if she loved him.

* * *

He flew high above the clouds, fighting against his own nature to not go lower, he had to stay hidden.

He had waited too long for this moment, he wasn't going to do anything to jeopardise it, to much was at stake.

Even now, even though they were hundreds of miles apart, he could feel him.

Ever since the wolf maiden became pregnant he had known it was time to move.

His dark scales gleamed in the late midday sun, sucking in the warmth of its rays.

His green eyes searched the ground, expecting non-existent enemies to come out to stop him or worse, kill his rider. 

He huffed, dark smoke leaving his snout.

No being, human, dragon or otherwise was taking his rider from him.

And if they tried- the dragons eyes gleamed; the colour of wildfire- then he would burn the entire world down.

Starting with the North.

* * *

Jon didn't know how long he lay there, crying like a craven. But by the time he come to he realised the sun would soon set. And he would be at the mercy of whatever was out there.

He turned, looking for shelter. There! Near the top of the mountain was an opening. 

Jon frowned. The climb up there looked hard, and he didn't even know if it was safe. For all he knew there could be wolves or lions up there.

Unlikely, but in the state he was in his paranoia was getting to him.

Jon tried to climb, only to wince as he remembered the injury he had sustained. His arm was scratched badly. It hurt to move it, but he had to get to safety. 

As the sun lowered Jon could have slapped himself. He would need fire for light and to scare off any animals.

Again, despair seemed too claw at his heart, but he had made it this far.

The mountains surface was uneven, making Jon lose his footing more than once. Half way there he had slipped on a loose stone, and he had not only scratched up his face but one of his teeth felt loose afterwards. 

Ignoring his urge to cry from the pain he moved on, not wanting to lose daylight. 

When he finally made it into the he was tired and thirsty, but knew he couldn't waste it. Who knows when he would find water again?

As the sun set Jon was reminded that the North was a harsh place, especially at night. 

His small form shivered, teeth chattering. He fought against the urge to cry.

He knew it.

No one was coming to save him, he had deluded himself into thinking people cared about him.

He huddled in on himself, whimpering. 

Jon Snow had never wished for a mother more in his life. 


	2. Memories of a Dragon, Kindness of a Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cannibal thinks of times long past. Ned Stark panics. Jon finds something that will keep him safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 516 hits, 48 kudos and 11 bookmarks in, what? One day? Thank you all very much!
> 
> Some people were a little confused, so I'll explain a bit.
> 
> This story is going to be very AU, few things that happen in canon will happen here.  
> During Jon's POV last chapter it was him looking back from the future, at least at the beginning  
> .  
> Certain births and such will moved about for the sake of the story.

He was close.

Against all odds his rider was near one of his nests.

He tried to feel more through their bond, one which had connected them hundreds of years before his rider was born, and nearly roared in anger.

His rider was _freezing._

He tried feeling more, trying to connect to his rider, but until they met and the boy accepted him, he wouldn't be able to do much.

He sped up.

A dragon of his size or age probably _shouldn't_ be able to move so fast. Then again, when had he ever been normal?

He felt memories rise to the front of his mind.

His species were magical. Creatures made by Gods, who had created many other types of dragon, like the ice dragons.

Like him.

**《《《**

_The day he had hatched had been a day of prophecy. A prophecy long forgotten. One about a dragon, a great beast of fire, blood and magic, hatched by the God's themselves._

_His egg had been abandoned, unhatchable by other Valyrian's._ _When the blood had hit his egg it gave him life._

_They hadn't needed fire, why would they? He was destined to be more than a fire breather._ _Alone he wouldn't be able to do it, to access his true power. He knew this. But with him -The Prince who was Promised, The Son of Ice and Fire, his rider - he would access his full potential. And he would help his other half do the same._

_But that was a long time ago._

_He had waited. Years and years he awaited._

_Then came the Doom._

_He fled with many other dragons and their riders, non of which was his._

_He had lived on the island they called Dragonstone for years. He had sensed the blood of his rider within the last Valyrian's there. Many tried to tame him. None survived. Why would they? They weren't worthy, it didn't matter that they were his riders ancestors. They weren't him._

_During his waiting he knew to survive he needed to do something. Even dragons weren't immortal._

_It was during one day when a foolish man had tried to tame him forcefully that he had learned of a way._

_Dragons were magical. Their riders had magic._

_It was only after he had feasted on their flesh, after he had lost himself in the taste and power, that he realised what he had done._ _Somethings were meant to happen, he realised._ _After his first taste he wouldn't stop, couldn't stop._

_Perhaps it was his own nature, perhaps it was a part of his future riders._ _It was during a moment when he was feasting on the eggs of another that he realised he didn't care._

_He was doing this to protect his rider. The one who would save them. Why else would the Gods choose him? So even though he enjoyed the flesh of his brethren, he knew it was for the best._

_The more he ate, the more powerful he was._

_After awhile he had decided that he had had his fill for the time being, so he gathered some treasures he knew were of importance and flew._

_He flew far from Dragonstone, far from the South._ _He had nested somewhere close to the Wall, as they called it._ _Even he, a dragon who had seen Valyria, had been impressed._

_Especially with what he found on the other side._

_The corpes of an ice dragon -which had been preserved in a cave deep underground - made for an excellent meal._ _But it was something else that caught his attention._

_Underneath the half eaten wing was a clutch of eggs. Five in total. Three of them where cracked, the baby dragons being crushed from whichever force cracked their hard shells. He had eaten those as well. The remaining two however were in perfect shape. He had to ignore the need to feast on them, they would be useful._

_Leaving the two eggs in his nest in the northern mountains, he flew towards the ocean. The islands calling to him. It was there that he found a place too rest._

_Years passed as he slumbered deep in a cave on an island called Skagos. The magic he had gained settling inside of him. As he slept he had dreams, dreams from the eyes of the God trees._

_He had seen many people in his slumbered, few important to him, but he paid attention. He would need information to protect his rider._

_He learned that shortly after he left Dragonstone of the Valyrian family, the Targaryen's, had fought._

_To him it was pathetic, they fought over who was more entitled to a seat? A position of power? What did any of them know of power?_

_The fighting led to many dragons dying, many Targaryen's as well._

_And then, just like that, he was the last dragon._

_He would have felt sad, but he didn't. They had brought this on themselves, there was no one else to blame._

_The Targaryen's claimed to be powerful and yet it was the Stark family that impressed him._

_Kings for thousands of years, while the Targaryen's were Lords. Fire was deadly, but the north could freeze you, and the black dragon had never heard of any Targaryen surviving without their dragon._

_So to say the least the dark dragon was more impressed with the Stark's than the Targaryen's. At least they never went mad._

_But he had seen more than the Dance of Dragons, as many called it. He had seen the birth of a prince, who grew up to be a great man._

_During those moments he had never felt so close to his rider._

_He saw the man, Rhaegar Targaryen, marry a woman of Dornish blood. She bore him two children._

_It was during the time he viewed them - through the Weirwood trees, the eyes of ravens, sometimes even through fire- that he felt a wave of panic hit him. This man was the father of his rider, he knew he was, yet neither child was his rider._

_It as during his panic that he didn't feel a presence in his mind. He had snapped at them, only to stop._

_The Mother only shook her head and told him, "In time."_

_So he let his anger calm and he waited._

_Through the eyes of a raven he followed the girl, Lyanna Stark. She was kind and fierce, brave and smart. The cannibalistic dragon would admit he made a crooning noise when he realised who she was._

_A winter queen would be the mother of his rider! Two old lines, full of magic and power would surely lead to a powerful rider._

_And if not, he had thought, he would love his rider all the same._

_He watched as both Rhaegar and Elia invited Lyanna to join them. How they would talk and ride together, how Lyanna was a second mother to the children._

_He watched them wed. Beneath a Heart tree, with both a Septon marrying them in both the Faith of the Seven and the old gods._

_And then the war started._

_All because a women wanted to marry someone she loved._

_Perhaps he was biased because they were his riders parents. Then again the king had burned a lord and his heir, so maybe the entire blame didn't lie with Rhaegar, Lyanna and Elia._

_But he felt like he was getting ahead of himself. He was a dragon, there wasn't much he could do, only his rider would be able to understand him and then what? Was everyone else going to believe a child?_

_He watched the war. As people fought to dethrone the mad king. Because that is what many were trying to do, these people wouldn't fight to save a woman, no matter what Eddard Stark and the loyal Northerners thought._

_Then he felt it. The birth of his rider._

_The bond which he had since he had hatched strengthened just a tiny bit more, enough so he would know where he was._

_He had yearned to be with his rider. He waited hundreds of years for this! But the gods told him to wait. That the boy was too young, too wait until he could understand everything._

_The Cannibal -and how he wished for a new name- complied. Just a few more years, what harm could it do?_

**》》》**

He wished he had come sooner.

* * *

Eddard Stark was many things.

He was the Warden of the North, the Lord of Winterfell, a father and an uncle.

Of course, no one knew the last bit.

He tried, he really did, but it was for Jon's safety that he kept his distance. Everyone believed him to be his bastard, so he couldn't show favouritism. No matter how much he wanted to.

He loved Jon like his own, he raised him for gods sake! But if he slipped up, made a mistake or revealed something... he shuddered to think what Robert would do.

Dragonspawn. 

That's what his best friend, his brother in all but blood, called them.

All Ned saw were innocent children. 

When he had heard Lyanna begged him with her last breaths to protect her babe, which he would have done regardless, his heart had broke.

She made him promise, like she expected him to hurt his nephew, _her son,_ because of who his father was.

He made a promise to protect him. And he would keep it until his dying breath.

He knew Cat didn’t like him, few would like their husbands bastard, but he had hoped she would have some sympathy for the boy.

Ned would one day look back and curse himself for how blind he'd been.

But for now Ned was panicking. 

The bandits had been sent by someone with a grudge. They said nothing on who the grudge was towards but it was unimportant. Jon was missing.

The Wolfswood was meant to be safe! And the guards from all the other Lords and Ladies present should have been able to find him! 

And one of the guards who belonged to Karstark had the _nerve_ to ask why they were searching for a _bastard._

Ned was ashamed to admit he had punched him. 

Greatjon Umber had laughed, only to stop at the glare his liege lord gave him. Robb, who had been silent until now, asked him in a trembling voice, "We will find him, right father? Jon will be fine, won't he?"

It wasn't him who answered his son though, it was Roose Bolton who answered, surprisingly enough.

"If the boy is anything like his father or uncles, or even his aunt, then we shouldn't have to worry too much, Lord Robb."

The leach Lords words seemed to calm him, as Robb's hands- which he had tried to hide from view- stopped trembling. He nodded, agreeing with the man's words. Jon was already like his mother in so many ways, but he also had much of his uncles in him, from what Ned had seen over the years.

Ned told his men to find Jon, the guards moving to start their patrol for his nephew. Some guards went back to Winterfell for more men and to inform those that hadn't joined them of what had happened.

Ned just hoped nothing bad happened. 

_Promise me, Ned_

'I promise, Lya, ' he looked on as his Lords and Ladies made to search for his nephew, his son, 'I'll protect him.'

* * *

His stomach rumbled.

Jon winced, the sharp pain of hunger was hard to ignore, but he pushed through it. He wasn't weak, _he wasn't._

His (shaking) hands grabbed his water pouch, and brought it up for a small sip. As he huddled deeper into the cave for warmth he could have sworn he heard something. 

It was dark. He could barely see the outline of his hand. For a time he had fallen asleep, only to wake up to a loud howl in the distance.

'Wolves,' he thought. He had heard tales from old Nan that Stark's of old had Direwolves. But he wasn't a Stark. He was a Snow. He knew that if a wolf caught sight of him he'd be ripped apart, maybe even eaten alive.

He shivered.

His eyes widened. There it was again! 

Jon turned too the entrance of the cave. The sound was closer now. It sounded like panting.

'Something is coming,' he realised. Tears welled up behind his eyes. Something was coming, either to kill him or save him.

Oh who was he kidding? He was going to die.

The sound was closer. He wasn't just shivering from the cold anymore. 

He hoped Robb, Arya and Bran would be okay. Sansa too, even if she had started to spend less time with him. He hoped uncle Benjen wouldn't be too sad, he didn't deserve to be sad.

The sound was right outside the cave. He could hear something walking, a 'pat' like sound, the panting was louder too.

Jon grabbed his dagger (a gift from uncle Benjen, actually. He said it was easy to conceal, that it was for emergencies) and his wooden sword in his other hand. The tears fell now, he knew he was likely to die. But he wouldn't go down without giving it his all.

Jon froze. His tears dripping down his face onto the hard ground. He was definitely going to die.

The monster was big. As big as a horse! And it was- as far as Jon could tell in the dark- grey in colour, with yellow-gold eyes that seemed to shine.

Jon gulped. 

The direwolf stared at him. Before slowly, very slowly, it started to inch towards him. Jon backed up. He knew it was dumb, but he didn't know what to do. This was a beast from legends! His siblings coat of arms, their sigil! 

He shivered, a light wind blowing into the cave. The wolf whined softly. 

Jon's fingers felt numb, and he dropped the sword. The wolf advanced. He brought the dagger forward and the wolf stopped. It recognised the weapon, Jon realised tiredly, and it wasn't attacking him. Jon knew it was stupid, but he was tired and hungry and _so cold,_ but he lowered the dagger and put it in its sheath.

He numbly realised he was trembling. Perhaps from fear or the cold, hells it could be from hunger! The wolf saw him shaking, and approached carefully. 

Even from where he stood Jon could feel the Direwolves heat. The wolf came closer, dwarfing him in size. It nudged him gently, pulling him down.

Jon laid besides the sigil of his father's house, the wolf big enough to curl around him completely. The warmth was intoxicating after being in the cold for so long.

As Jon started too drift off to sleep, the days events tiring him completely, he swore he'd never take the warmth of his rooms for granted ever again. 


	3. The Gods work in mysterious ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years ago to today the Rhoynar blood is still strong.   
> A mother wolf watches over her human cub.  
> The Stark children come together, waiting for news of their lost brother.  
> Checking the nest.  
> Jon hunts and sees a dark shadow.

**7 Years Ago**

_"Mother!"_

_"Listen to me, Rhaenys! Take your brother and go!"_

_"But what about-"_

_"There they are!"_

_"No! Take me, just not my children please! NO! RHAENYS RU-"_

**_Crack_ ** _**!** _

_Her mother's body stopped moving._

_She saw the knife coming but she didn't know what to do! Aegon, she had to protect him!_

_"Come here, little girl!"_

_She screamed. She felt the blade nick her skin, but she had run, she had to protect her brother._

_She ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, but it wasn't enough._

_Then she saw him. The man who always tried to make her smile, who was always kind to her. He stuck his head out of the throne room doors, a confused expression on his face._

_"Ser Jaime! Please!-"_

_"What-"_

**_-_ **

_Pain._

_Pain and Ser Jaime's face as they caught her. As they ripped her brother from her arms. He tried to grab Aegon from the bad man but someone stopped him._

_Tywin Lannister._

_Rhaenys felt the blood in her throat. The pain from her stab wounds hurt. But seeing what they did to Aegon hurt more. She heard Tywin yell at his son to stop struggling. But she didn't care anymore._

_She failed._

_She failed her mother._

_Mother..._

_Would she see her again? She hoped so._

**_●●●_ **

_The water was nice._

_It_ _felt amazing, her wounds felt clean and her skin felt soft and smooth._

_Rhaenys was sure she was meant to be doing something, but at the moment all she could focus on was the way the water seemed to play with her._

_She looked to the right. Some of the fish were playing with Egg, his hair was surrounding his head like a crown._

_"Come to me."_

_She looked down._

_Down into the dark abyss of which no one would survive._

_She grabbed her brother, who barely moved, his silver hair seemed to turn bronze (red) for some reason._

_She dove deeper._

**Present Day**

Rhaenys watched from the water as her father's friend, Jon Connington, trained Egg. Whose silver- bronze hair stuck to his face, sweat dripping from his face.

She wouldn't question how they were alive, not yet. But she was glad the God's showed mercy.

She still remembered the faces of those that looked upon their corpses, those that mourned the loss of children and those that celebrated. 

She felt something touch her tail. Looking down she saw the fin of a shark, it waited patiently to tell her the news it bore.

She smiled, petting it.

She wondered what news there was from White Harbor? 

* * *

The direwolf looked down at the human child. _Pup. Pack._ Direwolves, along with many other creatures, weren't the type to ignore the Gods. 

So when she and her mate were told by the Gods that they would find the descendants of Winter Kings and be their companions, they were honoured. 

To be with humans that would make them whole? Give them home and hearth? It hadn't happened in far too long.

Her mate, after making sure she was carrying, made his way to the Wall. While she would go beyond it to the rest of the Stark family.

The Gods had blessed her journey, leaving many prey in her path to feed on. But she had sensed the need to be elsewhere, and since the God's didn't stop her, she knew it was the right choice.

The sun was rising. Soon she would go to hunt, and she would be taking the boy with her.

She was big enough to support him perfectly, even on this uneven ground.

She felt something in her womb move, she was only a few weeks in to her pregnancy but already her pups were preparing to meet the world.

She wondered, briefly, if when she found her human she would grow to the size of her ancestors. 

* * *

Arya wouldn't stop crying. 

When her father came home and told them what had happened, they were all mortified. 

A child lost in the Wolfswood, alone? In this weather as well? 

Even Catelyn, who never liked the bastard, felt a little pity. The boy would surely die from the cold, if a predator didn't get him first.

When Bran saw his sister cry, he started as well. If Arya of all people was scared for Jon, then it had to be bad.

Catelyn told the children to share a room for the night, seeing as they were not going to be separating anytime soon.

So here they were, all laying in the same bed for comfort. Even Theon!

(He may not like Snow that much, but Robb, _Robb,_ was crying. He had waited until it was no one but the two of them to let his walls down.)

(Theon hoped Snow was okay, for Robb's sake.)

Sansa had, for once, put aside her feelings and her Septas teachings to comfort her siblings. Arya was hugging her, face pressed into Sansa's neck so the others wouldn't see her cry.

Every hour Arya and Bran would calm down, only to start again when no one came to tell them that Jon was home and safe.

Sansa had prayed to the Gods, as her siblings couldn't in the state they were in.

She prayed to the Seven.

She prayed to the Old Gods. 

Theon, to everyone's surprise, had even uttered a prayer to the Drowned God that, if Jon was anywhere near the sea, to be delivered safely to Winterfell. 

Non of them said anything when he stuttered, saying home before noticing his mistake.

(Robb felt a brief moment of happiness, that Theon considered Winterfell his home.)

Hours after they had been sent to their rooms, or room, they had all finally fallen asleep.

Together they dreamt. 

Bran and Arya dreamt of wolves. Running and playing with them; with an odd looking raven watching over them.

Sansa dreamt of a beautiful castle. Overlooking a forest full of flowers and fruits, while on the other side lay an ocean and a beach, filled with mystery. 

Robb dreamt of his siblings, all together. Laughing and playing with wolves and other animals that, everytime he looked at them, turned blurry.

Theon dreamt of a Kraken. Bigger than anything he had ever seen. It seemed to be guarding something, or someone. Someone with Tully red hair.

* * *

He was here. A little further than what he would have preferred, but he needed to see to his nest first.

The treasures he had collected over the years lay about, hidden in alcoves out of reach of any humans.

Swords and shields, monies and gems he had found. The two ice dragons eggs. And other things he had liked. 

The sun was high in the sky by the time he had made it to his rider.

Now, how could he reveal himself? 

* * *

The direwolf was bigger in the sunlight. At night Jon could barely see his hand, even with the moonlight. Now, he could see the wolf in all it's glory.

It was as big as a garron, maybe a little bigger. Dark grey with a lighter underbelly, it's eyes were a nice honey colour, or maybe direwolf eyes changed colour at night. There wasn't much known about the ancient creatures, afterall.

He had been terrified at first. He had laid against it, he had _slept_ on it. What if it decided it was hungry?

Instead it had picked him up by its mouth and settled him on its back.

Jon didn't know whether to be terrified or excited. Here he was, on the back of a direwolf, the beast of legends.

And that was before it started to run.

It had gave him a look. One which he understood. He had wrapped his arms around its neck, and after making sure he held on tightly enough, the wolf started to run.

Jumping over rocks and cliffs. Roots and crevices. Jon had laughed in delight, how could this animal move so gracefully? So quickly? It wasn't long until they made it to a stream. The direwolf setting him down.

Jon looked at the stream. It _looked_ clean enough, but what if it wasn't? Becoming ill was the last thing he wanted.

He noticed the wolf giving him another look, turning to look at it, he waited for something to happen. The wolf, having gained his attention, started to drink from the water. Giving Jon a stare when he didn't copy it immediately. 

Jon looked down, before taking out his pouch and drinking the last of the water in it. Before kneeling down to fill it up.

The wolf gave him a soft bark, sounding like it was happy. Then, to Jon's embarrassment, his stomach gave a loud rumble.

The wolf whined, picking him up again.

Jon enjoyed the ride, though the pain from his stomach dampened his mood considerably. 

After a while they came to a small clearing. There stood a giant stag. The direwolf put him down once more. Ready to pounce.

Jon grabbed his dagger, ready to help in anyway he can.

The wolf jumped. The stag tried to run, but it wasn't fast enough. The wolf bit down on it's neck, ripping a chunk of its flesh from it's body. Jon ran, as fast as his tired form could carry him. He held his dagger as uncle Benjen taught him, and sliced the stag's stomach open.

It tried to escape them, but it's entrails spilled onto the ground, blood rushing down its side and legs from its wounds.

Finally it stopped moving. Falling to the earth with a great **thud.**

Jon breathed heavily. He had never taken something this big down before. The biggest thing he had killed was a rabbit, and that was with trained hunters there to help them.

The wolf's muzzle was stained with blood, it licked it's teeth. It walked around the dead stag and gave Jon a sloppy lick in thanks. Jon giggled, wiping away the saliva and blood on his face.

The wolf grabbed the carcass, strong jaws wrapping around its neck and began to pull it in the direction of the clearing from which they came.

Jon picked up twigs, leaves, sticks and small stones.

The direwolf was warm, but it couldn't always keep him so, or cook his food.

When they made it back the sun was high in the sky. Midday, he thought.

The wolf ate it's fill as Jon made his fire. They had made it close to the cave where they had slept. At least from up here they could see any search parties. 

If there where any.

Jon shook his head. 'No, they will come,' he thought piling the pieces of wood together.

After nearly a full hour of trial and error, Jon had made a fire on which he could properly cook his food.

Grabbing the stone slab which would act as his plate, he cut a piece of the stag off. Striking a flame, he waited until it was strong enough before putting the meat and stone on top. 

As he waited for his food to cook Jon took another look around the clearings. 

His brows furrowed.

In the woods where they found the stag, it was mostly snow. Here, however, there was barely any snow in the clearing.

Even the mountains were void of snow, Jon thought, turning to look at the tall mountains and it's cave.

Only at the very top there seemed to be snow, and Jon had to squint to see it.

A small growl from the wolf alerted him that his food was done. He carefully moved the stone plate onto the cold ground to cool off.

As he watched his food cool he felt the direwolf move behind him. He turned to look at it, only to jump in surprise as it's (blood stained) muzzle was inches from his face.

As he looked at it he turned to its rump. It's stomach _was_ a bit big, and from what he had seen of the dogs in Winterfell if it were a male then it would be _very_ obvious. 

Jon blushed a little as he took a peek. The wolf did nothing but watch him.

It was in fact, a girl.

Jon ate his food in silence. The taste wasn't the best but he was so hungry he was just glad to eat.

As he ate he felt as if he was being watched. 

The direwolf was watching him, but it wasn't her.

He finished his food, looking around. Maybe it was a raven or eagle? Maybe another direwolf? If so he hoped it was a friend of this one-

Jon's thoughts came to a screeching halt.

The sky was dark. The sun had been shining brightly a moment ago. There hadn't been any clouds when he last looked.

Jon looked up.

And nearly screamed.

Something, _Something,_ was high, high up in the sky. And yet it seemed to drown the clearing in darkness.

A big part of Jon was scared. A smaller part was excited, like instead of a giant monster it was seeing an old friend.

The wolf curled protectively around him. Ready to protect him.

(Jon felt touched that a wild animal did such a thing in the face of danger, though he was more focused on the beast in front of him.)

It circled a few more times, before flying away. Over the mountains too whatever lay beyond. 

But before it disappeared from sight, Jon caught sight of its eyes. 

Bright, wild green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wasn't sure at first if I wanted Rhaenys and Aegon, but I decided to add them, as I have some ideas for them. 
> 
> I don't plan to forgive the Lannister's or Baratheons, though some people, like Jaime, fates haven't been decided. 
> 
> Anyway thank you all for your support, it means a lot to me.  
> Until the next chapter, bye!


	4. Numbing truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow the dragon to his nest, his greatest treasure is the truth withheld. 
> 
> Or, Jon learns something.

Jon loved to read.

He could probably spend years in a library if he could. Readings everything and anything he could get his hands on. After all, knowledge is power; especially for a bastard.

One of the topics he would read about was of the Targaryen. Of Valyria and it's Gods and customs, the dragons and their history. He spent hours reading everything he could about the dragons, looking over the few pictures there were.

So of course he recognised a dragon. What else could it be?

Jon knew what he saw, but that didn't mean it made sense.

The last dragons died out a long time ago, and the last attempt at birthing dragons back into the world had failed.

But Jon couldn't deny what he saw. A giant, coal black beast with wings, with the brightest green eyes he had ever seen. Eyes that seemed to see into his soul.

He knew, even though he didn't know how, that the dragon (and he was still realing over the fact that he just saw a dragon ) wouldn't harm him.

_**"Come to me."** _

Jon jumped. He looked around wildly. He swore he heard a-

_**"Follow me."** _

There it was again!

It was like something was at the back of his mind, like when you forgot what you were going to say and it would allude you. It felt like that, but with a tickling sensation as well.

Jon stood up.

He glanced at the direwolf, she had an odd look in her eyes, one of concern. She stood up, ready to follow him.

Jon smiled. It was nice to have someone (and yes, he would refer to her as a person. She was intelligent enough to be one) that cared. One that would follow him.

It was nice.

Together they started walking. The mountains uneven ground causing him to slip a few times before he regained his footing.

He followed to where he saw the dragon fly off to. Sharing a glance with the direwolf, Jon started his journey.

**●●●**

The journey was long. They only had a minor idea of where the dragon went, though Jon had, at times, felt like he'd been here before.

Soon they came to another clearing. This one however, was unnatural.

The clearing Jon had been staying in looked natural, the trees just not growing inside it. Here however, the trees were all knocked down. Pilling over one another with the earth marked by something.

Something sharp.

On one side was a tall, rocky mountain covered in grass, vines and moss. The surrounding area was dense woods. Further back were tall trees that seemed to reach to the sky, at there base lay their fellow trees.

Jon looked around, brows furrowed.

_**"Come to me."** _

He was trying, but where?

There was nowhere else to go. Further up the ground dipped down, looking like it was once a deep river that dried out. The trees opposite the mountains lead to more forests, while back was their camp.

Jon growled, frustrated.

Why was this so _hard?_ First he was seperated from his family, next he nearly freezes to death if it weren't for his wolf guardian, and now he's following the trail of a _dragon._

'Maybe', he thought, 'I'm not looking close enough'.

He looked again, this time more slowly. The direwolf came to stand next to him, licking his hand as he pet her.

If he were a giant, flying reptile where would he be?

Jon stopped.

Why would the trees be knocked down?

He wanted to hit himself.

(He felt something at the back of his mind, a faint feeling of amusement. )

Something caught his eye.

Turning towards the stone wall he looked more closely. All the trees in the surrounding area where knocked down, but why?

Jon moved closer to the mountain.

Two, maybe three trees, lay in an odd heap. Over grown grass at the bottom climbing up it's and the stone walls sides. Moss and vines, leaves and the odd root from some other tree layer against the mountain unassumingly.

Jon blinked as a faint, hot breeze hit him.

Jon grinned. What a smart dragon.

As he walked deeper into the hidden cave entrance he wondered what motivated a dragon, and animal at the end of the day, to hide a cave entrance. Especially the way it did.

The cave went deep. His and the she-wolf's footsteps echoing all around them.

**_"Closer."_ **

This time Jon didn't jump. He was assaulted with a sense of deja vu. He health like he'd been through a thousand times already. Yet he knew he hadn't.

Soon they came to an opening, wide and, mostly, empty.

Something shined brightly, up in an alcove high up near the ceiling. From where he stood he couldn't _quite_ see what it was, but it was something metallic.

Pausing, Jon looked for the dragon.

He knew this was the place. _He knew it._ So where was it?

Jon jumped, the direwolf snarled at a dark corner. No, not dark, Jon realised, numbly.

The dragon uncurled from it's nest. Dark body moving lightly for it's size, slowly made it's way towards them.

Jon couldn't think. Or move. Or speak. His mouth was open as he gaped at the giant creature before him.

It shouldn't be so big, it _couldn't._ But it was.

It's head only was bigger than... Jon failed to think of anything to relate it too.

The direwolf curled her body around him, no longer snarling.

The dragon made a noise, a deep rumbling noise.

**"Hello, Aemon. "**

What?

Jon blinked, confused. Hearing the dragon was one thing, but... Aemon? Surely the dragon was mistaken, he was Jon, a Stark bastard. Why would he have a Targaryen name?

Jon licked his lips, his mouth uncomfortably dry, "I'm not sure who you refer too, my name is Jon, not Aemon. " He explained, frozen as those giant, deep eyes looked over his form.

The dragon made an odd noise, like it was scoffing.

**"I know who I speak to, rider. I wouldn't mistake you for anyone else."**

Jon nodded, shakily. Yea, that was fair. He doubted a dragon, one that was obviously intelligent, would just choose anyone. Or make a mistake with something as simple as a name. But...

Jon looked up at the dragon.

"You called me Aemon, why?"

(That was a Targaryen name, why would he have a Targaryen name?)

**"That is the name your mother gave you, though you were given another to not arouse suspicion. "**

His eyes widened. His mother?! This dragon knew who his mother was- unless it was lying, which Jon doubted as there was no reason to- and could possibly tell him who she was.

"Do you know my mother?" Jon asked excitedly, the idea of _finally_ knowing who his mother was filling him with excitement.

The dragon crooned softly, **"Alas, I only saw her, never met. But I saw enough to tell you about her."**

Jon felt a little disappointed. But then excited, at the very least he could be told of her, that was more than he had ever hoped for.

"Who is my mother?" He had heard rumours that it was Ashara Dayne, which would explain why his eyes- which if the light hit them, would shine violet - but he had his doubts.

Why would Lord Stark bring him North to his southern wife? When Dorne would treat him equal to that of a nobleborn?

(Why would someone of Dorne name their child after a Targaryen? )

The black dragon stared at him, silent. As Jon stared into those bright, wild green eyes he felt like the dragon could see into his soul.

The dragon continued. His voice echoing in and around Jon.

All Jon could do as his world -his _life_ , _everthing he knew_ \- was destroyed by mere words, was listen.

(At first he was confused, the words not registering)

(Then it was like cold water was being poured on him, the words finally making sense)

(Eyes wide, heart dropping to his stomach; which felt heavy. He couldn't breath, _he couldn't breath._ It was like his senses were disappearing, his ears rang, he felt cold)

(He didn't notice it, but his hands were shaking; latching onto the direwolf when she pulled him towards her.)

**"Your mother was Lyanna Stark. "**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry for the late update, with other WIP's and other things distracting me and the fact I have some writer's block... yeah sorry. I lost track of time and didn't find time to write.
> 
> This chapters a little short but I have a system going to plan things out.
> 
> Hopefully I write the next chapter soon, but as a note I'm not just going to abandon a story, not the ones I'm currently working on at least.
> 
> Anyway, leave a comment and give me your thoughts.   
> Stay safe!


	5. Moments of a Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa couldn't let people badmouth her big brother, nor let her baby sister be sad.
> 
> Jon sees times long past.
> 
> Aegon can't sleep and Rhaenys talks to him.

The room was silent.

Shocked looks exchanged between the other girls, Jeyne Poole's eyes were wide, staring in disbelief. 

Sansa tried not to fidget under their stares. Specifically her Septas stare, which turned angry as she realised just what Sansa said.

Sansa noticed Arya smile, her normally sullen expression disappearing. 

Sansa couldn't explain why that made her feel warm.

"Sansa! You shouldn't use that kind of language, what would your lady mother think?" The Septa snapped at her, but all Sansa could focus on was Arya and the other girls words.

Arya glared, turning to say something to the Septa when Sansa cut in.

"So I should let them speak badly of my family?" The Septas eyes widened. 

"Now, I said no such th-"

"No," Sansa straightened her back, glaring with as much venom she could muster. "But you allowed them-" she nodded to the other girls, still clutching their needles and threads, "- to disrespect a member of house Stark. Jon may be a natural born son but that doesn't change the fact the fact you insulted a Lord Paramount's son."

She stood up. Setting aside her half-finished cloth (which she planned to make into a dress, though she doubted it would be finished any time soon) she looked at her sister. "Come on, Arya. Let's go watch Robb and Theon train."

And there it was again.

That blinding, happy, _warm_ smile. Arya pushed her stuff away, not caring that she made a mess. The Septa tried to stop them from leaving but neither girls listened. 

Sansa would admit she wasn't all that interested in the boys training, but it was better than being in a stuffy room full of people who badmouthed Jon.

As Arya ran ahead to watch her brother train Sansa couldn't help the small, fond smile even if she tried.

* * *

Lyanna Stark.

Lyanna. Stark.

Maybe- no. No no no...

It...

His father-

Rhaegar Targaryen. 

Oh.

Jon felt like he was going to throw up.

Rhaegar Targaryen had stolen Lyanna Stark - _his mother_ \- and ra-

Jon swallowed the vomit, not wanting to cover the direwolf- who was still curled around him- in his sick.

He breathed heavily. The wolf's mouth opened, tongue shooting out to lick him. It was... calming. Gave him something to focus on.

**"I apologise. I should have known you wouldn't take it so well."**

Jon looked at the black dragon.

Dragon. 

Well that made sense.

If his father was a- a Targaryen, then him being able to understand a dragon isn't so far-fetched. 

**"Perhaps** **I** **should tell you it fully."**

Jon nodded, still a little woozy.

**"Actually, I believe if I showed you it would be better."**

"Sh- show me?"

The dragon laid on the ground, head resting on the stone floor of the cave.

**"A connection. Place your palm upon my head. A physical connection will help."**

Jon nodded. Making his way towards the dragons form. Though he soon noticed a dilemma. The dragon was big, it's face- specifically it's snout- big enough Jon was sure a fully grown garron could inside.

Jon looked at the dragon. The dragon eyed him, making Jon pause. Seeing no other way -and muttering a small apology- Jon climbed up.

The dragon was unbothered, waiting patiently for Jon to find his footing.

"What do I do now?"

**"Just touch the area between my eyes, after that you will know what to do."**

Jon did as told, bringing his hand to the area right between the dragons eyes.

The minute they made contact something clicked. Like a locked door being unlocked. 

Jon closed his eyes, something was at the door.

**♢♢♢**

Jon blinked, looking around at the unfamiliar yet familiar place.

He turned, seeing something he was incredibly familiar with.

A Weirwood tree stood proudly in front of him.

Jon looked around again. This wasn't the Godswood, that much was obvious. Suddenly he felt a weight on his shoulder. 

He looked at what it was and jumped. Small, green eyes met his grey-violet ones.

It was the dragon! But he was... tiny. Huh, Jon looked him over, he was... kinda cute.

**"Thank you for your complement but please never refer to me as 'cute' again."**

Jon didn't even react. Of course the dragon could hear his thoughts. 

**"Only because we are connected between our minds."**

Jon nodded. He wasn't sure how to react to this, but he thought he was doing well.

**"Oh you are doing well, I'd expected you to start screaming or freak out."**

Jon hummed, looking over the smaller dragon. Said dragon turned to the giant tree.

**"This is where your parents married."**

...

**"Aemon?"**

"Sorry, I thought you just said my-"

**"Sorry, perhaps we should start at the beginning. "**

The world blurred, colours mixing and swirling together.

Noise was heard. Cheering. Where were they?

Suddenly Jon was watching something. For a moment he was confused, what he was seeing not making sense. Then it clicked. A joust!

Jon looked around. They were high up, on top of a tree in fact. Jon was about to ask how they were here when something caught his attention.

A raven stood next to him.

A raven with _three eyes._

He glanced at the dragon.

**"Ah, that** **would** **be how** **I** **was** **able** **to observe the world. That raven, to the outside world at least, is normal. But since we are in the mind realm we can see things for what they** **are** **. That is Brynden Rivers, Bloodraven. The Three Eyed Raven."**

Jon nodded, still staring at the raven who had turned to look at them. The raven stared for a moment, before flying up to his shoulder. It found a place on his unoccupied shoulder, pecking his ear. Jon thought it might have been in a sort of greeting. 

**"** **At** **the moment he cannot talk to you, for this is between us. But you will be able to talk to him soon. I'm sure there are matters he wishes to speak of. Targaryen to Targaryen."**

"But he isn't a Targaryen, he is-"

**"Is blood of the dragon, the blood of Valyria. He may not have the name but he has the blood. He is family. Some of the last** **we** **have."**

Jon watched the joust as he thought his- _the_ dragons words over. He had been a Snow his whole life, yet Lord Stark always treated him as a Stark, as part of the pack.   
Sure, Brynden Rivers didn't have the family name, did that make him any less a Targaryen? Make him any less family? 

Jon was brought out from his thoughts when something flicked his ear. He yelped, hand finding the area the dragon had flicked.

**"Lyanna Stark was much like your cousin, Arya. She would fight** **and** **practice with her brothers, would stand up to any who insulted or harmed her loved ones. But most of all, she would never be a perfect Lady."**

That sounded like Arya. It made him feel warm that his sister was so much like his mother. That the women who birthed him was also the one who everyone would compare to Arya.

**"Of course, in Westeros and most of the world women are usually seen as nothing but as something to be used to breed and make alliances. Something your mother wouldn't stand for."**

The crowd cheered as a mysterious knight with a tree sigil knocked someone's off their horse. Jon found his eyes watching them, drawn to them.

**"Lyanna Stark was to be married to Robert Baratheon, someone who loved the idea of her. Robert would grope women in front** **of** **her, never caring how it** **would** **shame her."**

The dragon sounded angry, which he could understand. Jon would _never_ do such a thing. The fact Robert Baratheon was said to love her and yet would do such things in front of her? Jon agreed with his dragon, the man didn't love his mother, if he did then he wouldn't act like that.

**"Your mother wouldn't marry** **a** **man like that. Not when he he had bastards. Ones which he acted like didn't exist."** The dragon glanced at him, before turning to watch the Mystery Knight, **"Your mother cared about many, even her betrothed's bastards. "**

The Knight knocked another over.

(A Dornish woman sitting with the royalty was cheering loudly, curious eyes following the unknown Knight)

  
**"Your mother came to Harrenhall with her brothers and third bannermen. One of which was** **Howland** **Reed. She caught him being beat by other knights and to honour him, along with trying to embarrass them as revenge, she joined the tourney. "**

His eyes widened. The tree... The Knight of the Laughing Tree... his mother.

 _It sounds like something Arya would do._ Jon thought as he watched his mother leave, waiting to be called back against another opponent.

**"Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, Aerys saw her as an enemy and wanted the Mystery Knight found. That is** **how** **your parents met. Rhaegar had found your mother hiding her armour and confronted her. Instead of turning her in to his father, he invited her to a luncheon with his wife, Elia Martell."**

The scene changed again. This time he saw her.

Long dark brown hair in a Northern braid, pulling a piece of armour of. She froze, turning to see someone coming.

Jon could understand why Targaryen's were considered inhuman. His father was handsome, his silver hair framing his face and making his eyes- violet eyes- stand out.

He watched a Kingsguard follow his father. He recognised him immediately. Ser Arthur Dayne; the Sword of the Morning.

He could hear their words, his mother's and father's voices sounded like melodies in his ears.

Jon swallowed the lump in his throat, he wasn't going to miss _anything._

He watched with rapt attention. They talked, getting along almost instantly. Ser Arthur also seemed to notice how easily they talked, as he glanced between them.

The scene changed again. This time they were in a garden, surrounded by flowers and bushes blocking unwanted eyes. Two Kingsguard guarded the entrances.  
In the middle sat a table with his parents -should he count Elia as his mother?- eating and talking.

  
**"The luncheons became frequent, some with your father, some not. Both Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia loved your mother, spending as much time together as they could."**

Jon nodded.

He watched as they talked. His mother's- it was surprising how he called her that with such ease- hand resting on Elia's. The silver prince smiled, taking both of his lovers hands in one of his own.

**"Your mother** **would** **dote on Rhaenys and -when he was born-** **Aegon** **whenever she was with them."**

The dragon curled around him, it's tail flicking up to bat the raven on his shoulder.

He had forgotten it was even there.

Once more the scene changed, this time in a spacious room that could only belong to Elia Martell, who sat with Aegon in her lap.

Aegon...

His brother.

He swallowed, tears pickling his eyes.

(A brother he was never going to meet.)

His mother sat on the floor, Rhaenys in front of her. A black cat between them chasing a small feather attached to a string.

Jon moved closer until he was right besides them. He looked at his sister- _his sister_ \- for similarities.

He had his mother's colouring, and from what he'd seen a bit of his father.

Both he and his father had the same nose and chin, Rhaenys had the Dornish colouring with Violet eyes. He looked closely at her.

He could see it.

When Rhaenys smiled it was wide, full of teeth and warmth and happiness. While Jon wouldn't say his smiles were like that, that didn't mean there was no resemblance.

The dimples, the way her eyes sparkled... and when his mother Lyanna smiled as well Jon knew he had a bit of both of them in him.

**"Rhaenys loved her second mother, 'Mother Lyanna' she called her.** **Aegon** **might have been young but** **he** **too loved her."**

Jon spent hours watching them, somehow knowing that they had all the time in the world. Watching his parents meet and talk and- as silly as it was- play. It was a whole other experience to watch his normally quite and sullen father race around a room chasing his mother for scaring him.

He watched the Kingsguard train, trying to copy their movements. He watched the court proceedings, seeing his grandfather and grandmother a whole other story.

He felt repulsed to be related to such a monster like Aerys Targaryen, how such a person could exist was beyond him.

His grandmother on the other hand was a saint. Playing with her grandchildren and spending time with her good-daughter, and upon finding out about his mother, spending time with her too.

One thing though him off. It was during one of his parents meeting where Rhaenys and Aegon were present. His brother babbling in mother Elia's arms (Jon was shocked at how easy it was to call her that). Rhaenys had been playing with Balerion when she got up and hugged his mother, resting her head on her stomach.

Rhaenys turned her head to her father, _"Papa, are you and Mama Lyanna going to have chil'ren?"_ She asked, face still pressed into her other mother's midriff.  
Rhaegar smiled widely, sharing a glance with both his mothers. 

_"Once we are married, yes. Would you like a little sister Rhaenys?"_

And before Jon's birth mother could say anything -most likely about how she was _sure_ it would be a boy- Rhaenys cut in.

 _"_ _Not_ _a girl! I'll have another little brother."_ Their parents seemed amused at how sure she was.

Rhaegar chuckled, _"Will you?"_

Rhaenys nodded quickly, hair bouncing madly, _"Yes! And you'll name him_ _Aemon_ _!"_

Now they seemed curios, _"Why_ _Aemon_ _sweetie?"_

She smiled as if it were obvious, _"Because all_ _Aegon_ _'s have had_ _an_ _Aemon_ _! Right mama?"_

Elia smiled, _"_ _That's_ _right_ _sweetling_ _,"_

Jon wondered, was he named Aemon because Rhaenys said so? Or did his parents decide it was a good name and go with it?

Either way it didn't matter. He was Aemon Targaryen and Jon Snow, and at the moment he wanted nothing more than to continue watching his family.

* * *

Aegon Targaryen was restless.

He tossed and turned yet couldn't sleep. He turned to face his sister.

His sister lay in an old bath, one which was for her use only. It was filled with water, his sister floating around in it.

Rhaenys _could_ walk on land and sleep in a normal bed, if she wanted. But they all agreed it was better if she comfortable.

He huffed, sitting up. He stood and grabbed a chair and pulled it close to her 'bed'.

He watched her for a bit.

Jon Connington, a man he considered a second father, said they had to be blessed by Gods.

Whether it was the Old Gods of the North, The Seven, The Mother Rhoyne or whatever other God existed they were blessed.

The stab wounds on Rhaenys had long since healed, only pale scars remaining. His own wounds had head long ago, though he would sometimes feel a little pain in his head, or on his skull. Whichever it was.

The water sloshed a bit, his sister turning to face him, eyes finding his.

"What are you up for Egg?"

"Couldn't sleep," she nodded.

Aegon put his hand in the water. Feeling the salty texture made something in him happy.

He glanced at her tail. Long and dark, the scales reflecting any light that hit them.

He always wondered why she had such changes and he didn't.

Perhaps it was better he didn't. If he were to re-claim their families throne he'd need to be 'normal', else the people turn on them.

His sister hummed, he turned to her.

"What's wrong?" She shrugged, playing with the water.

"Just thinking."

"'bout what?"

Rhaenys stopped, the water -which had been slowly floating upwards in her hand- splashing back into the tub.

"About Aemon."

Oh.

Aegon had nothing to say to that.

He knew he had a second mother- or did have one. He knew all three of his parents had been expecting another. A girl.

Though Rhaenys was adamant that it was a boy.

Aemon...

Aegon would sometimes see his parents in his dreams, though he couldn't remember much from his childhood when his parents were alive.

A few minor things, really.

His mother singing. His father playing the harp. And the slightest memory of Mother Lyanna speaking to him. Mayhaps a story?

Aegon shook his head, dyed blue locks bouncing wildly.

 _No point in thinking about that,_ he thought.

Rhaenys looked at him sadly, knowing what he was thinking about.

"He is alive Egg, I know he is."

He nodded, smiling tiredly.

"Sure, Rhae, " she frowned.

"Our brothers alive, Egg. I know he is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shiiiii- 
> 
> It's been awhile? Haha
> 
> Uhh... so my tablet broke and had to go into repair for two weeks.
> 
> Anyway, I'm back and I hope you all enjoy this chapter.


	6. No one loves like a brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a weight on Ned's Stark's mind.  
> ...  
> Viserys loves his sister more than anything.

Ned sighed, the stress of the past few days getting to him. The mood had been somber, everyone mourning (why were they mourning? Jon wasn't dead, he was okay, he had to be okay- _Gods please let him be okay-_ )

He walked through the ancient halls of Winterfell, the feeling of home -of the North and it's people that had been engraved into its very essence- not enough to make him feel any better.

Servants busied themselves, calls of "M'lord" following him as he walked into the courtyard. He saw Robb and Theon training, Sansa, Arya and Bran watching from the balcony. If there was anything good coming out of this (there shouldn't be anything good happening - not when it felt like he couldn't breath, when he felt like he had _utterly_ failed his sisters wish- had failed _her son-_ )

At least now, with the somber mood of Winterfell loosing one of her blood, Catelyn wasn't saying anything about him. He had tried to ignore it, tried to dissuade her from her path- one which was filled with hate for a motherless boy- to see that Jon would _never_ do anything to hurt his family.

Sometimes it worked, only for her to see the boys training, to see Jon beat Robb for the fear to come crawling back.

He knew that Sansa had started to distance herself ( _even though she loved him as much -if not more than Arya_ ) because of her Septa and mother. This was the North, bastard or not everyone mattered. Because when winter came everyone was needed.

He had hoped her love for her older brother would win out against the odd teachings of the New Gods. He had been happy to hear that his six name-day old daughter had defended her five name-day old sister. That she had defended both her brother and her sister, who she had a habit of picking on with her friends.

He had wanted to address such issues but his work as Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North and the more mundane work that consisted of signing papers, he had been to busy to be a father.

(His father had been much the same, always ambitious. Perhaps if his father had been more attentive to his children then he would have noticed that Lyanna didn't like Robert, that there were other choices.)

(Maybe he would still have more family)

He hoped that if anything came out of this disaster, it was that his family became closer- that they would stand united and strong. As a pack.

Ned lighted a lantern, making his way into the crypts.

He passed by many of the previous Lords, absently remembering the days of his childhood when he had learned about them.

Finally he reached the newest tombs.

He lit a candle for his father, brother and sister, pulling a rose from his pocket to place in his sisters hand.

And the he cried.

He wasn't sure why he wept, but he did.

"Did I fail you? Did I fail your boy, Lya?" His voice came out in a quiet sob.

He had lost his father and brother to a madman, because they had the truth withheld from them. His sister, who he could barely blame. She had said it had started out so innocent. That it was meant to be for the better, but someone intercepted her letter. A letter that could have saved hundreds of thousands of lives.

The world could have been right.

(He could imagine it. Lyanna and Elia Martell, sitting besides Rhaegar. The children { _I only see dragonspawn_ } playing at their feet. Rhealla Targaryen still alive despite what that madman had done to her, her son and daughter happy and safe, not being chased by assassins and fearing for their lives. The Martell's and Dorne wouldn't weep for the unjust murder and rape of an innocent woman, of two babes. )

(A world where Aemon could be himself. )

But life was cruel.

And such a life, such a reality would never come to be.

So, yes. Ned Stark, the Quiet Wolf, wept. For everything and nothing. For his family and the family that could have been. For the innocents, for the children.

For his nephew, who would never know his mother because of the world's cruelty. Because of man's cruelty.

Later- hours where he wept for the injustice of it all- he had pulled himself up, and looked in the hidden compartment behind his sisters tomb.

The box was heavy, yet it was light compared to the weight of his lies.

He already knew what was in there, but it wasn't to be opened until his nephew returned home.

He would tell him.

He would call them to Winterfell like they had agreed all those years ago.

Hopefully Jon understood, hopefully they wouldn't be mad that he had waited so long to call them.

The weight of Lyanna and Rhaegar's final gift felt heavy in his arms.  
  


* * *

His stomach hurt. It grumbled and cramped and screeched at him to fill it. But no matter how painful it was he ignored it. Especially when his sweet sister was going through the same thing.

They had only been on the streets for a few weeks now, but already their coin was starting to run out. Once it did Viserys wasn't sure what they'd do.

They could sell their stuff for coin and food but... it hurt to think about doing so.

A few of mothers things, jewellery and her crown, and a few odd things. Things Viserys didn't want to part with.

But...

Daenerys whined as her stomach grumbled, wincing. Her bottom lip trembled as she curled into him for more warmth.

He pulled her closer, wrapping the small blanket around her. He would part with the jewellery (his mothers jewellery, the last thing he had of his sweet mother-) for his baby sister.

"Are you children well?"

Viserys jumped, Dany copying him as they looked up at the strange woman.

The dark haired woman wore red robes and a choker with a red gem in it.

Her eyes roamed their faces, searching. Viserys wondered what she wanted.

"You are Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen, yes? Blood of the dragon. Stormborn and Hearthborn. "

Viserys got ready to run when she called them by their names, how could she know their names? But before Viserys could get a word out the women knelt.

"How long have you been out on the streets? How long have you gone hungry?" The woman asked, worry lacing her voice as she looked them over.

Viserys managed to choke out, "Who are you?" Before wincing. It hurt to talk, not having drunken anything in a while.

The woman smiled. "My name is Kinvara, a priestess of R'hllor. He has sent me to help you."

"Why should we believe you?" Viserys asked, not quite glaring but it was a close thing.

And then she said something that, he didn't know how, he knew was right.

"You and your sister play an important role. One of which is to stand besides the Prince who was Promised. "

Viserys nodded, not sure what to do. He had heard Rhaegar talk about the prophecy many times when he was younger, not truly knowing what he meant.

He glanced at his sister.

_"Promise me, Viserys. "_

His hold on her tightened. He'd protect her.

He looked the woman, Kinvara dead in the eye. "Can you promise that nothing will happen to my sister or I?"

She nodded and proceeded to give an oath.

And then she helped him and Dany up, picking the young girl up into her arms. She held out a hand for him. He took it.

Together they walked towards a temple, not knowing they had changed a part of history forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally going to have a Jon and Roose POV, but I scraped it. Especially since Roose's didn't line up with where I wanted the story to go.
> 
> So we have our first view of Viserys and Dany! I have plans for those two, especially Viserys. 
> 
> Also sometime in the future a few characters will be introduced who I hope no one will mind, no spoilers!
> 
> Ned's pov was... a little much, eh? I dunno where that stuff came from.
> 
> I want to say that in this story it's mostly pro-Lyanna/Rhaegar, though it will likely touch on the fact that what they did was slightly irresponsible. 
> 
> Anyway, comment your thoughts and see you all next time!


	7. Weeping, Acting, Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A boy thinks and weeps.  
> A Lord remembers.   
> A spider thinks.

He gasped, breaking contact with his dragon. Taking in his surroundings, Jon- _Aemon_ took a deep breath. Exhaling softly, he climbed down from his dragon's snout.

Once on the ground he leaned against his dragon's side, the direwolf coming to lay beside him.

Besides the soft breathing of his two companions there wasn't a sound. No other noise could be heard in the enormous cave.

Closing his eyes he thought on... _everything_.

His name was Aemon Targaryen, though it would take some time before he got used to such a name. He was the trueborn son of Lyanna Stark Targaryen and Rhaegar Targaryen, and adoptive son of Elia Martell Targaryen. His parents married on the Isle of Faces with a Septon to officiate it; making him a trueborn by the Old Gods and the New.

Rhaegar had searched for dragon eggs, three for his children. Where the eggs went he had no idea, though it wasn't like they'd be of much use.

Which brought him to the other thing he learned. The Cannibal.

The black dragon rested against the stony ground of the cave, wildfire green eyes staring at him with a thousand different emotions, all stemming from the same place; love.

This dragon had _somehow_ been hatched by the Gods years (decades? Centuries? Did time work the same for a dragon?) before the Doom. From there his dragon had travelled with the Targaryen's. While observing his dragons memories he had met Brynden Rivers, Bloodraven. His something-great uncle.

The war was built on a lie, or a half-truth. His mother left letters, none were found. His father sent letters, those weren't found either. Mother Elia had even sent letters, though much like the other letters they were lost as well.  
And then Aerys Targaryen, the Mad King, his _grandfather_ , burned his other grandfather and made his uncle watch, making Brandon choke himself to get to the sword in front of him.

After that-

Gods, why? So many people dead, and for what?

Robert Baratheon was a man who allowed children and an innocent women to be killed, and then he had the gall to thank the man who did it!

Jon had an urge within him, a dark and twisted urge which sent sparks alight within his mind. It made him want to jump on top of his dragon and fly to Casterly Rock, to burn Tywin Lannister alive for what he did, to go to Kings Landing and burn the royal fa- No, to burn Robert Baratheon alive.

"Would you do it? Would you let me fly you there and kill them?" He asked in a quiet voice.

The voice was clearer than it had previously been, sounding indifferent. **"If it were what you truly wanted, then** **I** **wouldn't stop you. I'm here to be many things; a brother, a father, a friend, a companion, a teacher, a protector... an advisor, so let me tell you this: if you did do this, people would fear you. They'd more than likely think you're your grandfather reborn... but like** **I** **said, if it's what you want, then** **I** **won't** **deny you."**

Aemon choked back a sob, "No, no its... it's not what I want."

He doubted his family would want him to do that. His parents, his siblings-

Gods... Rhaenys and Aegon... Viserys and Daenerys... two dead and the other two could be for all he knew...

Biting back another sob, he clutched the direwolves fur, pressing his face into it.

Breathing felt difficult, sobs wracking his small form. Why? Why couldn't things be simple?

He could have had a family, a mother and father, another mother and two siblings (maybe more-) he'd have cousins, and uncles (uncles from both sides who weren't full of grief-) and aunts and-

He stopped.

A tear fell, only to be licked up by the direwolf.

Wishing and wondering about what ifs wouldn't change anything. They were gone, dead. He could wish and plead and beg to the Gods, but they wouldn't do it. If they did then he'd have had his previous wishes come true.

Taking deep breaths, Jon controlled his emotions.

_In and out. In and out._

Okay. Now... now what could he do?

Trueborn he may be, and a disgraced prince (a prince, _him_ , he had royal blood,) but what would that do?

Grey eyes glanced at the humongous dragon besides him, which breathed lazily. Well, he had a dragon.

A wet tongue licked his cheek. And a direwolf, he thought, giggling as the direwolf continued cleaning him.

Then something occurred to him.

As the last son of Rhaegar Targaryen, he'd be king after him. But that wasn't it... he was disgraced, so why-

_Protector of the Realm!_

A king was meant to guide and nurture his people, to usher them into a new age. Or at least, that's what he thought a king should do.

But he was, technically, well, a prince, but- but he could do _something_!

Help people. That was what he wanted. He wanted to help.

But how? He had no money-

Jon was pretty sure his neck cracked as he turned to quickly look up around the cave.

Small nests of treasures lay about, far above any humans hands. Swords, armor, shields, _money._

Jon grinned, turning to _his_ dragon.

"Can- may I- would you-"

**"You have no need to ask me. I gathered many things here because of you. Some have uses for battle, like the swords and armor, the money can be used for whatever you wish."**

Then, the large black dragon and _woah_ _was he big-_ lifted himself up, long neck moving up. And with a gentleness that was astounding for something of taht size, he plucked something out of a pile.

Gently, he nestled himself back into his resting spot. Placing something in front of Jon.

It was a shield, with a smiling heart tree on it.

Suddenly, Jon remembered what he saw.

This... this was his mother's....

"Thank you..." He whispered.

Hugging the shield close, Jon started to plan.

* * *

  
Ned Stark sighed. He was unsure what to write. His hands, wrapped around the quill, hovered above the parchment.

What could he write? Maybe he should have let them come with him afterall...

Maybe then Jon would still be here.

He groaned. It was all a mess. Everything from start to finish was a grand mess.

Brandon hadn't wanted to marry Catelyn, Ned remembered. His older brother would have rather married a wildling instead. Ned remembered wanting nothing more than to be besides Robert when they were both younger. And Lyanna-

Gods why couldn't their father have listened? Why couldn't _he_ have listened?

He rubbed his brow, forehead creased.

Lyanna didn't want to be chained to a man everyone was to blind to see was a monster. A man who whored like his life depended on it. In front of Lyanna no less!

_Ser Arthur had said there were letters sent, so why didn't we get any?_

The Knight guarding his sister had told him that they had sent dozens of ravens- that Lyanna had left a letter herself. _So then why didn't we get it?_

Eddard could remember it like it was yesterday.

The day he found his sister.

 **《《《** _Seven years ago/ Dorne, outside_ _The_ _Tower_ _of Joy,_

_Ned_ _wiped the sweat off his forehead, the_ _Dornish_ _sun glaring at them with it's rays._ _Howland_ _was faring better than him, his horse trotting ahead of his own._

_Besides_ _Howland_ _,_ _Ned_ _was riding to save his sister alone, the rest of their party had either been too injured to go or_ _Howland_ _gave them something else to do._ _Ned_ _didn't know why he did that, they needed all the men they could to save his sister. Especially since he had a hunch on who was guarding her..._

_There! He nudged his horse to speed up, the tower was in sight, and he could also see someone at the_ _base_ _of it._

_Shining armor reflecting the Dornish sun, catching sight of them he shouted out, two others coming out._

_They rode closer. From atop his steed Ned could spot the famous sword of Ser Arthur Dayne, Dawn, being drawn._

_The Lord Commander- though he doubted he'd be Lord Commander after this, if there even was an after- Gerold Hightower and Ser Oswell Whent ran out._

_Ned grabbed for his sword-_

_"Wait!"_

_He turned his gaze to his companion, Howland giving him a look._

_The Kingsguard watched them warily, swords out and tense._

_Ned just wanted this over with._

_"We mean no harm, Sers. Lord Stark merely wants to see his sister."_

_The air was humid, making him tense further. See? He wanted to take her far away, seeing wasn't enough._

_"And how do we know you won't attack us?" Ser Gerold asked, grip tightening._

_Howland took a breath, eyes flickering to the tower._

_"Explaining would do us no good, as you wouldn't believe my explanation. Instead I will tell you what I know."_

_He got of his horse, gesturing for him to do the same. When Ned reached for his sword, he shook his head, "Trust me."_

_After a second he nodded. No one loved his sister like Howland did._

_They faced the Kingsguard._

_"Lady Lyanna and the late Prince Rhaegar married on the Isle of Faces, with a Septon of the Faith to witness it." What? No, that-_

_Howland wouldn't lie. Not about Lyanna._

_The Kingsguard looked unsure and surprised._

_"After the Septon left, Princess Elia married Lyanna." If it weren't such a serious situation, Ned might have laughed. Only his sister would marry a woman, a woman of royalty as well._

_Ser Arthur opened his mouth, only to be cut off as the cronnogman continued._

_"And at this moment, she is up there, lying in a bed about to birth her son."_

_Lyanna was about to-_

_Ned nearly rushed off, only to feel a hand tugging at his wrist. Howland looked at him._

_Ser Gerold snapped._

_"How do you know this?" Sers Arthur and Oswell looked ready to attack, and Ned could understand why._

_His sister (sweet Lyanna, his sweet sister-) was pregnant, and according to Howland, birthing a prince and son. How the man knew it was boy didn't matter, Ned trusted him with his life. If he said it was and boy, it was a boy. If he said Lyanna married the late Prince and his wife... well, he could believe it._

_Howland stared, glancing at the tower once more. "Like I said, you wouldn't believe me if I told you. Now, please, let us see her. We wouldn't hurt her or her child."_

_And then they let them pass._

_They felt for hidden weapons, only finding the hidden dagger of Howland's, which he gave himself._

_And Ned ran. Ran like he was being chased by his brothers in the Godswood again, like they were playing wolf and knights. Except this time there were only two wolves left._

_"Lyanna!"_

_Even from here he could see her small, weak smile._

_"Ned?" He dropped beside her, beside the blood (blood. Why was there blood? Please don't-) soaked sheets. He smiled down at her, moving her hair out of her face (her sweaty, pale face) watching her smile back at him weakly._

_"Ned... I missed you big brother..." He smiled at her, tears brimming._

_"I- I missed you too, Lya. I'm, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for trying too force you with-" she shushed him, smiling at him._

_"It's okay big brother... I forgive you a... a long time ago... I'm- I'm sorry about- about Brandon and father," she wept, tears sliding out of her tired eyes._

_Ned heard the Kingsguard and Howland walk up, but he paid them no mind._

_"It's alright sweet sister, I'm sure they wouldn't blame you... I don't," she smiled, then it brightened._

_"Howland... you... came..." she said weakly. Howland smiled, eyes sad and mournful, coming besides Ned and gently rubbing her knuckles. "I'm here Lya, we're here," she smiled. She weakly called for someone._

_A woman came over, holding a small bundle. Ned hadn't noticed her in his rush for his sister._

_A soft cry came from it. The lady handed the bundle to Ned, Lyanna smiling._

_"Isn't... isn't he beautiful, Ned? He... reminds me of... Ben when he was little..."_

_He did. Small tufts of black hair, small grey eyes, the babe was all Stark._

_"Me and... Elia agreed... that... Aemon was the best name... for a boy..." she trailed off, smile still strong._

_Ned frowned._

_The babe wailed._

_And so, for the remaining moments of her life Lyanna had been surrounded by her Kingsguard, friend, brother, and her son._

_**Later, when the deal had been struck and the Kingsguard leaving Westeros for the forseeble future, Ned Stark, Lord of Winterfell, rode home with his sisters bones and her son.** _

  
**》》》**

Swallowing his (fear? Pride? He didn't know)- the lump in his throat, he started to write.

_To Sers Art, Oz and Lordtower...._   
  


* * *

Far away from the North, far, far South, stood the capital of Westeros.

People who had never been there would give it high praise, about how beautiful the city was- of how great it was.

Obviously, they were either delusional or lying, never having stepped a foot into the city.

To Varys- who had lived here for many, _many_ years- could say with absolute certainty- that the capital was shit.

The common folk starved and wasted away, dying from starvation or the cold when they couldn't find a place to sleep. The Lords and Ladies who flittered about trying to get close to the royal family making fools of themselves.

And don't get him started on the royal family. Please don't.

Varys nearly rolled his eyes when he heard what his little bird was telling him. Joffrey had skinned his brothers cat, and got away with it.

He _had_ tried telling young Tommen to keep out of his brothers way, to not let him see his cats, but the boy was a child, to young to truly learn that sometimes, people- even those related to you- could be cruel.

The royal family was a mess. Robert whored and drank himself to sleep day-in day-out. Cersei fucked her own brother weekly- sometimes when she could get away with it- daily. And Joffrey was the Mad King reborn.

The only saving grace in their family was Myrcella and Tommen, though he wondered how long that would last. Sooner or later their hearts would harden, the sweet children would be forced to open their eyes and see the world for what it truly was.

He hoped not, he didn't like it when children were hurt.

(Though when has he truly helped? When has he stopped such an act?)

Still, if there was nothing he could do, there was nothing he could do.

The Queen thought herself smart, but Varys knew sooner or later she would either slip up or someone else would. Or perhaps he would reveal the truth himself. Either way it would happen, and Gods have mercy on the children when Robert found out.

Varys made his way to the small councils chambers.

Once sat, he had a look around the room. Pycelle sat, faking exhaustion. Varys had tried figuring out what was going on with the Maester (or Maesters) but his little birds were unsuccessful in that regard. Still, he had many eyes watching the man.

Next was Lord Petyr Baelish, more commonly known as "Littlefinger". The man was a whoremonger, owning nearly every brothel in Kingslanding. He was also sleeping with the lady Lysa Arryn, who had passed her bastard son off as Jon Arryn's.

Varys had suggested to the Lord to perhaps try for more children, he would hate to see an old house go extinct, or to go to someone else. But again, if the Lord didn't do as suggested then it wasn't Varys' fault.

Lord Stannis and Lord Renly came in together, a self assured smirk on the youngest Baratheon's face while the elder had a dour look on his. Varys could sympathise. He'd rather be elsewhere as well.

They all took their seats, waiting for the final member to join them. They needn't wait long, as the Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn joined them soon enough.

Hmm, Varys mused, keeping his face blank. So many Jon's to look out for, so many who have roles (a Jon who might be who he thought- though he may be wrong).

They started without the king, as usual.

The meeting was boring and simple. No changes, no matter of importance- nothing. But all the same he listened. He watched their faces and their movements. Listened to their voices to see if they revealed something. A slip up or a way of word or say, perhaps.

Nothing. The meeting ended and that was that.

Walking the halls- halls that always seemed dull and lifeless- Varys mused on something he'd heard from his birds from the North. Lord Stark's bastard son had gone missing- though since he received the letter yesterday the boy might have been found.

He wasn't sure, but he didn't think Jon Snow was Eddard Stark's bastard.

The war had made it hard to gain information, but Varys knew that when Stark went south- to find his stolen sister, "stolen" by Rhaegar- he went back home with his sisters bones and a bastard son.

There was a chance he was wrong. Maybe, against all improbability, Ned Stark had forsaken his vow to his new Lady wife and laid with another. Or maybe the boy was Brandon Stark's.

Still, the signs were there. The "secret" meetings between Rhaegar, Elia and the Lady Lyanna. How the Lady Lyanna was sent to Dorne, with Kingsguard there to protect her.

There was a chance (a high, high chance) that she was pregnant.

Varys just wished there was a sign of marriage.

Perhaps the boy truly was bastard. If so, it would be easy to call him trueborn, all he would need to do is forge some documents. Easy, compared to other things he's done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late, but when am I ever on time?
> 
> Within a week I'm going back to school, but I will try writing more chapters in advance (though I suck at following schedules)
> 
> Comments are appreciated. 
> 
> Until next time!


	8. Dragons blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A DragonWolf prepares to go home.  
> A Dornish Dragon trains.  
> A Rhoynish Dragon dreams.  
> And two Dragons think on their stay.

290 AC

He must have dozed off because when he awoke his stomach growled with hunger. When he wondered about what he'd eat he needn't have worried, as the direwolf padded into the cave, muzzle wet and bloody carrying a deer leg.

Green eyes blinked, staring down at the raw meat. When he looked up in question the dragon huffed, telling him to bring it closer.

When he moved back he watched in awe as red and orange- with the smallest, barest flicker of green- flames, small and precise, cooked the meat.

It took a bit to cool, but when it did he ate with gusto, felling full and warm when he was finished.

He pet the still bloody muzzle of the direwolf. He needed to go back to Winterfell, he'd been away for too long.

For all he knew, they thought he was dead.

(And wasn't that a chilling thought? That if it weren't for the direwolf he would have frozen to death or starved)

He pulled his mother's shield closer, fingers gliding over the paint. His mother had held this, used it in a tourney.

His mother liked to ride, he knew that, but what else did she like? Did she have a favourite food? A favourite colour? Did she like sewing and embroidery like Sansa? Or did she hate it like Arya?

It was the little things he wished to know. He saw her, knows her name, who she was, but he didn't know _who_ she was. Her likes and dislikes, her hobbies, or her misadventures. Fath- uncle rarely talked about her, he knew why now.

It must be hard for him, to talk about the sister he lost with her son sitting close by, not knowing.

Didn't mean Jon wasn't angry at him. He could have at least been told if she was dead or alive.

**"Aemon, soon you will need to go back, my cave may suit me, but it is no place for you."**

Jon nodded (he liked the way his name sounded).

"Yeah... but how? My horse ran off..." Jon yelped as the direwolf picked him up by the back of his shirt. She turned and placed him on her back, staring at him as if to say "how's this?"

Jon giggled, petting the large she-wolf. He leant down carefully, grabbing his mother's shield. There was no way in hell he was leaving this here.

Checking himself for everything, he nodded to himself.

He looked up into the big green eyes of his dragon, "You can't come with me..." He said sadly.

 **"No,** **I** **cannot. That doesn't mean however that we** **can't** **speak with one another,"** he said, his voice echoing within Jon's mind. He smiled. That was true, no matter where he went, Jon would always be able to talk to him.

He shuffled awkwardly on the giant wolf's back, "I guess for now this is goodbye."

**"Not a goodbye, Aemon. But a promise. No matter what, I'll always be here for you, just as I know you'll always be here for me."**

Aemon smiled, nodding.

"Bye, I'll come back soon, I promise." And he leant down, looping his arms around the wolf's neck, holding on tightly as she walked.

The great big dragon watched his rider leave with fondness, knowing one day that would be him beneath his rider.

* * *

Seeing the sword swing towards him, he ducked, rolling and leaping to his feet, jabbing his practice sword into Duck's side.

The boat rocked softly in the open Essosi waters. Aegon, or Young Griff, gratefully took the water skin from Duck, drinking deeply. The cool water soothed him in ways that were indescribable.

He blinked, looking up as Septa Lemore and Jon Connington clapped, coming closer to congratulate his victory.

He smiled, thanking them. It wasn't that hard, Duck was good, but he'd been teaching him for years, sooner or later he'd have beaten him. But they congratulated him regardless.

(He wondered if in another life they'd be there, besides his parents, still acting as his family)

It was an interesting thought. But one that shouldn't be dwelt on for too long. Aegon was to spend his days training and learning, not dreaming and fantasising.

They trained for another hour, Egg winning once more but losing on the third, a slip of his foot and he lost his balance. It was embarrassing for him to lose by doing such a beginner's mistake. But Duck told him that such could happen to anyone, especially to an eight name day year old boy.

After that they ate- or they ate and he drank some water before taking his and Rhae's plates to their room.

He walked in, finding his sister asleeep in her water basin bed, the water sloshing as she moved slightly.

He placed their food on a small table and sat on his bed, watching his sister sleep.

It was rare Rhaenys was on the ship nowadays, what with her being able to take care of her self easily now that she was older. That and... that it pained her.

She could easily grow her tail in the water, but growing her legs was... painful, one that she sadly had to get used to.

Walking was worse, he knew. She told him once that it was like rubbing your bare feet against burning hot sand or splintering wood at high speeds.

Egg had asked Duck to train him to carry heavy weights since he learned about her pain. He didn't like the idea- let alone the knowledge- that his sister was in pain. Rhaenys didn't deserve such a thing.

Biting into some cheese and bread he wondered what they would do next. He could train, but for how long? He was meant to win back his throne, to restore house Targaryen, but he didn't know where to even begin.

Rhaenys couldn't walk, add the fact that she had an... _oddness,_ one that he knew no Lord of Westeros would like, her marriage prospects would lower. Not that he'd allow anyone that was unworthy her hand, or even choose for her. For all he cared she could marry a commoner if it made her happy. It just wouldn't make the Lords happy.

But Aegon wasn't focused on that. The Lords betrayed them, so many standing with the usurper. Stark he could understand, they had been wronged, even if it wasn't true at first.

But Tully? Arryn? Lord Arryn fought for his wards, that he could maybe forgive. But Tully? What did they gain? They gained marriage, two marriages, to two great houses.

All for the cost of breaking their oaths.

Aegon was named after the Conqueror, he was meant to sit the throne (even if his sister should instead), and he would.

He didn't know how or where to begin for that matter, but he would.

He'd train everyday from sunrise to sunset if he had to. He'd go to the far reaches of the world if it meant getting back their family throne- the throne their family _made_ \- and he'd do anything for his sister.

He looked at Rhaenys.

He had the hair, they both had the eyes of the Valyrians. But they also had the skin of the Dornish, of the near extinct Rhoynar people. It was in their blood.

Fire and Water.

Sand and Lava.

Blood and Life.

They were Valyrian and Rhoynish, and they'd get their birthright back, with Fire and Blood.

* * *

_Later that day_

Water sloshed out of the basin she slept in, yet Rhaenys was unaware. So deep was her slumber, so deep did she dream, nothing could wake her. Not until she saw.

_Rhaenys_ _blinked. She was... somewhere. Somewhere beautiful._

_She blinked once more before her eyes widened in recognition. This place again! For a fortnight now she'd been dreaming of this place._

_She looked around the streets as people -skin much like_ _Dornish_ _people's_ _, with eyes of green and blue and all that was in-between, with swirling blue tattoos lining their skin like_ _a_ _tapestry- walked around. They talked a tongue that sounded so familiar to her, yet she didn't know where from._

_Water was everywhere. Bridges crossing over them, houses on bits of land surrounded by it. It was heaven for a girl that belonged in it._

_It was a lively town, it always was when she dreamed of it. Flowers of a multitude of colours grew from bright green trees, animals everywhere she looked._

_As she_ _walked_ _further_ _the sound of_ _birds_ _singing and people laughing filled the air._

_It felt like home._

_Then the world changed. It rippled like water did when something fell in it. Over and over it rippled, the world changing to somewhere underground._

_She looked around, confused. This was new._

_Up ahead she saw people in_ _tight_ _clothing, runes stitched into it._

_Two women walked on either side of the man, whose shaved head was covered in tattoos. The women had tattoos as well, some peaking out from underneath their hair._

_They spoke in an unknown language, walking deeper into the cavern. She followed close behind._

_The man said something upon reaching a vault door, one of the women_ _walked_ _forward, touching the door and_ _whispered;_

_"Okyanus bizi seçen, deniz bizi bulan. Bize gücünü ver, anne_ _Rhoyne_ _. "_

_And_ _it_ _opened._

_And_ _Rhaenys_ _gasped._

_It had opened to reveal a long corridor of glass. Glass that looked much clearer than any other she'd ever seen before. Every seven feet then was a long rounding pole of some sort of metal, wrapping around_ _the_ _inside of the glass tunnel. She saw that there were runes carved into it._

_She rushed to join the people, looking around in amazement. This was unlike anything she'd ever seen! How had the water not broken through the glass? It was a easily broken material, and water pressure could do all sorts of things to easily breakable objects. She'd know, she's seen it happen._

_At the top of_ _these_ _metal pole_ _things_ _was_ _all_ _blue crystal that glowed when they came near, lighting up their path._

_Then_ _they_ _came to an open cavern made from white... stone,_ _Rhaenys_ _wasn't actually sure what it was, but it looked like it._

_It had three doors. The one on the left had a golden symbol on it, looking a bit like jewellery. The one on the right had a blue symbol that looked much like a quill._

_But the one that she focused on was the_ _one_ _in the middle. It had a large scaled green serpent on it._

_She barely noticed the people opening the door, only noticing when it opened to reveal the underwater cave._

_She nearly rushed in such was the need to be in there._

_(She was_ _rather_ _glad her walking pains didn't transfer to her dreams, else she'd have a much harder time doing, well... anything.)_

_The people walked in, talking in hushed voices_ _that_ _made it difficult to hear them, not that it made a difference. She had no knowledge of their language after all._

_The man walked forward, the women chanting three words over and over again._

_"Deniz. Ejderha. Yaşam."_

_Over and over they repeated those words as the man walked closer to_ _the_ _now bubbling pool of water._

_Rhaenys_ _walked closer, peering in._

_Then_ It _rose from the water_.

_Blue scales that were green at the tips, short curving turquoise horns, thins and thrills on it's neck and back, clawed_ _wing's_ _made for swimming and short flights._

_Rhaenys_ _Targaryen_ _stared into the eyes of a sea dragon._

_It's_ _sea green eyes stared back._

* * *

290 AC

_One week later_

  
She awoke to the feeling of soft silks and pillows against her skin. Daenerys blinked, light purple eyes lazily looking around her room for a second. Then she smiled, bright and warm and full of happiness.

She got up from her bed and walked to the looking glass. Sitting down to brush through her knotted hair she thought about all that had happened since she and Viserys were taken in just a week ago.

Kinvara, the nice priestess that had brought them here, had made them wash in hot water, with scented candles and soaps that smelt like flowers. She had given them new clothes- clothes of red, black, gold, silver, grey and all shades of purple- to wear. Her favourite was the robe of gold and black, the fabric feeling soft and light against her skin.

The priests and priestesses were very nice to them, giving them as much food as they wanted, clothing them and bathing them, Daenerys hadn't felt so warm, or full or clean in weeks!

It was...

It was nice.

She walked over to the basin of warm water, splashing her face.

She also loved the lessons.

History of Essos and Westeros, of Sothoros (what was known at least) and Valyria. Of all the known lands and their histories. It amazed her that so many things could happen in such a short time. That not even a hundred years after the Doom her family had conquered Seven Kingdoms. It just seemed so big and hard, she just couldn't wrap her head around it.

Then there was languages which she also loved. That there were so many languages all used around Essos was... it was boggling to her. Then there were the other lessons like geography, numbers, riding (they allowed her to ride a horse, a _horse,_ she'd never been allowed to do that before), sewing and stitching ("Just incase" Kinvara had said to her), Valyrian (and how she loved that, she knew Vissy did too), and her two favourite lessons; fighting and _magic_.

It had shocked her and Viserys at first. Girls rarely fought, or even learned how to fight, but then they were reminded that their very ancestors who had helped take the Seven Kingdoms was a female warrior. And while she didn't see herself Visenya reborn, Daenerys could admit (rather shyly) that she was already pretty good for a beginner.

Viserys had been a little skeptical at first, saying women didn't fight. But then Kinvara had pointed out that _Southern_ Westerosi women didn't fight. Women from the North did. Essos didn't have many but it was usually allowed. And Valyrian women were equal to the men in everything. And so her big brother nodded and told her if she wanted she'd be allowed to learn.

And learn she did. The fighting style of the Fiery Hand's was unfamiliar, and yet it came easy to her. She wasn't sure why, but she was sure Kinvara knew, if the looks she gave her and Vissy were any sign.

Magic however sang for her. At first she didn't think they were telling the truth. Magic died with the dragons. And yet, Kinvara had shown her the fire. She had looked in and _seen._

Viserys said he saw something but before he could mention what it was Kinvara told them what they had seen, their first seeing, was something they had to live through before talking about it.

And so they stayed silent. But he had been able to tell her it was good.

She had told him the same. It was rather good after all. Even if it didn't quite make sense. She and Vis were the last Targaryen's, and yet she had seen more.

Maybe they would be their children, though she didn't think it possible since the people were so old in her vision.

Besides looking into the fire, Daenerys found out she was impervious to it. Viserys however, wasn't. It had made him mad, that mad, terrible gleam entering his eyes.

But before he could shout and scream, Kinvara had smiled and told him something that resonated with her.

 _"Just because you don't have_ that _ability doesn't mean you have none. There were many other_ _Valyrian_ _families, families your own most likely married with. They must have each had their own gifts, gifts that you may have. Just because it is not shown on_ _the_ _surface does not mean it doesn't lie beneath."_

Just because Viserys wasn't fireproof didn't mean he didn't have any other gifts. Just because she was fireproof didn't mean she couldn't have other gifts either.

After that Viserys had trained with her as well. He was a natural with daggers, twirling them in his hand easily, throwing them and nearly always hitting the mark. It only served to motivate her to train harder. Which in turn motivated him.

Besides seeing visions in fire and being fireproof Kinvara taught them much about magic and other acts of sorcery.

Shadow Binding, the glass candles, the Faceless Men of Bravos. And those were only the most well known.

Wargs and Skinchangers, Green dreams and Dragon dreams. The things Red priests and priestesses could do... it sang to her.

That so much knowledge had been lost in the Doom saddened her. Magic just seemed so powerful, so beautiful... Daenerys wished she could see more of it.

Everyday they'd go to their lessons and train. They would practice their languages and writing, their riding and archery. It was fun. Especially for her. She'd never even been allowed near a sword unattended before. Yet now she could use any weapon she wanted. Just as long ass she didn't hurt herself, of course.

Upon their seventh day there, when the moon was highest in the sky, Dany dreamed.

She dreamt of lions, a large mournful lion protecting two cubs and a small deformed one. She saw wolves coming together, closer than before. A raven watching them from a nearby tree. A trout in a nearby river swimming towards them and from a mockingbird and another trout.

She saw stags. A large, fat crowned one surrounded by red. Lions, a mockingbird and roses surrounding it. She saw two stags on opposite ends. One bitter and jealous on a large scorched stone, the other jolly and carefree in a field of roses. A small scarred stag in the jealous ones shadow. A stag with steel or iron antlers. Many others scattered across a large Kingdom.

Then with a flash the scene changed.

A mockingbird clutching the lifeless body of a trout. A falcon feeding a young mockingbird in his nest. A spider weaving webs. A viper wrapped around his hatchlings.

And dragons. A large, serpentine dragon of orange, gold and white. A sea dragon close by. A white wolf that ran into the woods, turning into something else as it ran, until two large leathery wing's sprouted from its back and it flew.  
A silver and a purple dragon flying over a building that looked much like the temple they were in. And two black dragons hiding in the shadows.

When she told Kinvara her dream she had suggested that she write down her dreams. And so, with a new journal (purple, she loved the colour) next to her bed for her to write in, Daenerys knew life was going to be interesting. It had to be.

The nice man's voice said so.

* * *

Viserys had been unsure at first. Nobody helped them without wanting something in return. And yet they'd been asked nothing. 

They were clothed, fed, cleaned, given a place to sleep and yet they were not asked to give anything in return. 

His and Dany's rooms were right besides each other, allowing him to wake up and check on his sister easily.

He knew his sister enjoyed the lessons they received, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy them also.

But he was disappointed.

Not in Dany, no never her. But with himself. _He_ was meant to be King. _He_ was meant to revive their house and bring Fire and Blood to their enemies. And yet he didn't even have the ability of his ancestors. 

How could he save his family, his _sister,_ if he wasn't even fireproof? How could he make his mother proud if he didn't have the gifts of his ancestors? 

(They were the last house of Valyria. The last true bloods. If they died then an entire civilisation died with them. Their family died with them. 

The dragons memory would die with them.)

So he'd train. He'd learn. He would do _anything_ if it meant saving his house from extinction, the blood of the dragon from extinction. 

If he had to travel the entire world so be it. If he had to learn forgotten knowledge, forgotten _magi_ c, then so be it.

Anything for house Targaryen. 

Anything for Valyria.

For his mother and brother. For his niece and nephew. For his ancestors.

But most of all for his sister. 

No one was going to touch Dany. No one was going to _hurt_ Dany.

Not unless they want to wake the dragon, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Dany's and Viserys part seemed... bleh, i feel like it could have been better but it did it's job and I'm okay with it.
> 
> For the sake of this story, Rhoynish people speak Turkish, bc otherwise I'd have to use Google translate for another language which would be way complicated than it needs to be. Plus I rarely use Turkish outside of school.
> 
> Hope none of the information seems like an info-dump of out of place, since I'm probably going to do that a lot.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, stay safe and wear your masks!  
> Until next time, bye!


	9. Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack is reunited.  
> *pov starts with Jon and switches a bit

The sudden light made him squint, already used to the darkness of his dragon's cave. It may have made him pause, but it didn't stop the direwolf.

She padded down rocky or uneven grounds, jumped over fallen trees and ran over the open plains.

Not to soon they were in the opening where Jon had been thrown off his horse. Somehow it felt like so long ago, when he was still just the bastard of Winterfell.

 _Not anymore,_ he thought, _I'm_ _more than that._

He was Aemon Targaryen, trueborn son of Rhaegar and Lyanna Targaryen, son of Elia Martell Targaryen, and heir to the Iron Throne.

He wouldn't stay idle, he'd do _something, anything,_ and he'd make his mark.

He might not be ready for a throne now (or ever), but he wasn't about to sit idle and allow what he has to go to waste.

Those were the thoughts on his mind as he rode on the back of a direwolf to Winterfell.

Feeling an odd sensation come over him, he turned to look at the clearing, only to gasp. It was gone, replaced by thick trees and bushes that seemed to go on for miles. Looking up he couldn't even see the mountains that had been his safe place for a day. He didn't have long to think much on it, as the direwolf started picking up speed, making him turn and tighten his hold on both her and his mother's shield. Feeling his hold on her secure, the she-wolf started to sprint, knowing instinctively where she was going.

It was like a beacon of power, of ice and old magic not seen in centuries, of wolf blood and the powerful, ancient scent of a Weirwood. She could feel a two legged, or a man, that was what they called the males. She could feel the man that would be her bonded, along with more like him nearby, making her feel the pups in her womb even more.

As she darted through thick woods many a prey darted from her path, but she didn't care. She had her destination in mind, along with the human pup on her back to focus on. Deer and stags ran away the second they heard her loud running, squirrels and birds flying or jumping away up into their trees and nests, leaves and twigs snapped under the full weight of a running direwolf, announcing their presence to any passerby.

Jon however was having a grand time. The feeling of wind rushing past his ears, of it ruffling his hair and hitting his face was oddly enjoyable. The whistle of wind in his ears had a calming affect, making him relax against the she-wolf and simple take in everything.

It was like all worries melted away, it was just him and his direwolf companion. He wasn't Jon Snow or Aemon Targaryen in that moment, he wasn't a bastard or a prince, he was just a boy who was soaking up the feeling of wind in his hair and the warmth of the great animal beneath him.

Of course this moment had to come to an end, Jon knew that, what with him being able to glimpse one of Winterfell's towers through the branches and leaves high above his head.

Wintertown was bustling with people, small children younger or older than him running around laughing. Men and women going about their business and enjoying the moment.

Until someone saw the horse sized direwolf and screamed, that is.

Immediately people were grabbing their children and pulling them back, someone shouting for the guards to come.

The direwolf wasn't bothered, instead laying down and watching calmly as Jon sat up straight, flushing under the stares as people realised that there was a on the beasts back.

Jon looked over as he heard some commotion, smiling when he saw Ser Rodrik run out, sword in hand.

"Jon?"

Ser Rodrik looked at him, then at the giant wolf, then back at him.

"Lad, now get off that beasts back carefully before..." He stopped as the wolf stood up and slowly padded over to him, nearby men and women flinching and moving back, Ser Rodrik included.

"Don't worry Ser Rodrik, she's safe." Jon was pretty sure a nearby soldier muttered _"She?"_ under his breath. Ser Rodrik opened his mouth to ask something before closing it, too shocked and confused to even question him.

"... well, come lad, your Lord father has been worried sick."

Jon nodded and nudged at the direwolf to follow along, which she did after seemingly checking for danger. Or, at least, that's what it felt like to Jon.

The guards kept glancing at him oddly, or maybe they were glancing at the shield. Or perhaps they couldn't wrap their heads around the idea of a seven nameday old boy riding on the back of a direwolf the size of a horse.

Honestly Jon couldn't either, and he'd been with her for... what, a day? Two? Surely it had been two days by now. It felt like weeks to Jon, but maybe that was just him.

The gates were open and soldiers and guards lined every spot, hands reaching for their pommels upon seeing the wolf and swearing when they saw the him on her.

Jon giggled at their faces. They'd have to get used to it, as he doubted she was leaving anytime soon.

In the courtyard of Winterfell stood his uncle and yet when Jon saw him he saw a father instead. He jumped down from the she-wolf's back and barrelled into his father, clutching and crying softly.

It finally dawned on him. He could have _died._ He nearly froze to death, he might have starved to death or died from dehydration. But not here. Never here.

Here was safe and warm and _home._ Home was father's deep laughter as Arya and Bran babbled and argued in their child talk. Home was Sansa's soft voice reciting poetry that she liked. It was Arya begging him to teach her how to use a sword and calling him stupid when he mushed up her birds nest of a hair. It was Robb and Theon japing and playing around until he smiled.

Jon missed his home and he had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

"Oh Jon we were so worried- a kiss on his brow "I'm so sorry we didn't find you-" the strong arms tightened their grip "-I love you Jon and I'm so, _so sorry_ we lost you in the first place."

Jon smiled. "It's okay father, plus, I'm fine. I even got you a gift!" Ned saw what stood behind his son and gasped. The large direwolf simply laid and stared at him, seemingly expecting something of him.

She cocked her head before standing up and slowly walking over to him. He gestured to his guards to stand down. He felt something brush against his mind, startling as the beautiful beast licked his palm, which was resting on her snout. _When had he-?_

"JON!"

Jon fell over as the small form of Arya grasped onto him and shook. Jon felt a wet patch begin to form on his doublet.

"Arya, don't, I'm filthy!" Arya laughed lightly, sniffing. But when she caught sight of the giant wolf she instantly hot up to pet it, tears all but forgotten.

Jon shook his head, this time catching sight of the beautiful red hair barreling towards him. Sansa hugged him. _Hugged him._ She hadn't touched him in weeks!

She sniffled, even her crying ladylike, Jon thought. _"I missed you big brother."_

Jon pet her hair like he always did, "It's alright Sansa, I'm here."  
Jon felt arms wrap around him from behind, turning to see Robb, who hid his face in the crook of his neck.

Off to the side Jon could see Theon holding the small form of Bran. He looked rather unhappy about it too, though that was to be expected with how Bran struggled in his arms.

From there it was a rush as everyone hurried inside, the direwolf following as father allowed her. Jon was sent to his rooms and was given a hot bath, soaking up the sweet scents and the scalding water. Funny, Jon had never noticed how much he tolerated heat before. Or perhaps it was unlocked when he learned of his Targaryen blood? Who knew, he was more focused on the nice warmth all around him.

He was soon summoned to his father's solar and sat in a chair where he was given a large meal. Jon was happy to see the she-wolf laying in front of the fire.

Once he was finished his father cleared his throat.  
"Now Jon, I have many questions, most of all; are you truly well?"

Jon nodded slowly, "Yes father. Better than ever I believe." His father looked relieved at that, nodding slowly before reaching for something.

"And... where did you get this?"  
  
It was his mother's shield.

Jon felt red hot shame flood through him. He'd let go of it to hug his uncle and siblings but had forgotten to pick it up. He'd left _his mother's shield-_

"Hey, hey, Jon calm. Tell me, what's wrong?"

Jon sniffled softly, "Sorry father, it's just that's my mother's shield and I left it."

Ned froze.

"Your... mother's shield?"  
Jon froze as his uncle glanced at the shield once more. Ned truly froze now.

That was... that was _Lya's shield._ He remembered her painting it when she first learned about how knights would paint their shields, he even remembered her teary eyes as she was told she wasn't likely to ever use it let alone become a knight.

Ned had thought it lost, seeing it only once after that dammed tourney. But somehow it ended up in his nephew's hands.

The same nephew that came home with a fully grown direwolf.

Ned slid to the floor, sitting on the warm rug besides the direwolf, fire flickering and warming his weary bones.  
He pulled Jon into his lap, "Jon... what happened? How do you... how do you know that's your mother's?"

Jon shrugged, not looking at him. "You wouldn't believe me..."  
Ned sighed.  
"Jon, you came home after being out alone in the wild for nearly two days with a fully grown _direwolf._ The sigil of our house and a creature that hasn't been seen south of the Wall in hundreds of years. Why shouldn't I believe you?"

Jon looked up at him with those grey eyes that made his heart ache, sniffing slightly.

"A dragon told me."

* * *

Jon left his uncle's solar feeling tired yet relieved.

He made his way to his room only to be stopped by Robb, his brother flashing him a bright smile and pulling him into his room, where Jon saw all their siblings in Robb's bed. Jon was pulled into the warm bed after taking off his boots and day clothes, snuggling into the warmth bed and extra bodies provided.

It was silent for a bit. A comforting silence; Jon felt Robb brush a stray curl from his face when Sansa broke the silence.

"... I'm sorry Jon."  
"What for?" Her eyes met his, seeing his confusion she flushed with shame.  
"For... for ignoring you. For listening to my Septa about... about what they say about... children born out of wedlock. I'm sorry for being distant."

Her lip trembled when she was finished, voice a whisper as she flushed with shame at her actions. Jon smiled reassuringly at her, at least he hoped it was reassuring.

"Sansa... there is nothing to forgive."

Arya looked like she wanted to say something but was stopped by Bran who crawled over her to lay on his chest.

"Jon, is it true? That the direwolf let you ride it?" Jon couldn't help it, he smiled.  
"Yes, _she_ allowed me to ride her. And guess what?" Bran leaned closer.

"What?"  
"Together we killed a stag!"  
"No!... really?"

Arya leaned over, "Tell us Jon! Pretty please?"

Even Sansa, who usually didn't like hearing about hunts, looked interested.  
And so in the warm room, in an even warmer bed surrounded by people he cared about he told the tale of how he took down a stag with the help of their houses sigil

No one noticed the raven watching through a window, though Bran had thought he saw something when he turned to curl into his big sister. But it was probably nothing.

They soon fell asleep, content and happy that the missing member was back among the pack.

* * *

Eddard Stark didn't know what to think.

His seven year old nephew told him things that weren't possible. Yet he also couldn't possibly know everything else otherwise. And the Targaryen's were know to have visions.

That was probably it. Because while he loved Jon the idea of anyone having a dragon, let alone one the size of the Black Dread, filled him with a terror that he hadn't felt since he'd found Lya on the blood soaked bed.

Jon had told him everything, and whether Ned believed him or not didn't matter, Jon needed to confide in someone. Best be someone who carried the same secrets.

Ned had whispered in his nephew's ear (dammit all Jon was his _son_ as well) that he'd show him his mother's tomb on the morrow.

Then they talked a bit about her.

(Ned felt ashamed that the entire conversation was in hushed whispers. He was still afraid of someone learning the truth and they'd all pay for it.

Especially Jon, whose only fault was that he was born.)

Ned promised that he'd take him to her old room where he had stored a few things that had belonged to them all as children. Jon had nodded so excitedly that Ned wondered for a moment on why he hadn't told him sooner.

Then he was reminded of his age and the dangers of him knowing.

The grim reminder left his mouth dry and his chest heavy.

He then turned to the wolf who watched him silently.

"You aren't going to leave, are you?" She sniffed his hand, tail wagging. Ned could almost believe she was just a small lap dog and not a vicious great beast of the North when she was like this. _Almost._

He got up and headed for his room, intent on sleeping until midday if he could. Unlikely, but he would sleep better with those thoughts.

Ned was undressed and in bed, a hand reaching down to rub at the she-wolf's head when his wife walked in.

Now, Ned didn't usually swear, but if he did he would have said _"fuck"_ because in all the commotion and talking with Jon he forgot about Catelyn, his _wife._

She stared at the direwolf and gestured to it, too tired to even ask. Ned could sympathise. Then he felt bad. He'd been so focused on finding Jon he'd left his wife to deal with Lords and Ladies.

Cat then shook her head and scoffed to herself, muttering under her breath.

_"Men and their pets..." ".... almost as bad as Edmure..."_

Cat undressed and laid besides him, sighing as he played with her hair.

"Ned?"  
"Yes, Cat?"  
Her eyes darted to the side where, even though she was laying down, Ned could still see her head.  
"She... she isn't going to sleep in our bed, is she?"

Ned chuckled, "No. Don't worry Cat, she's probably going to stay besides the bed."

...

"... Probably?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This is... very late. Sorry.
> 
> Also the writing might seem a little different halfway through, mostly bc I wrote it all after a long ass break in which I had no idea what to do.
> 
> Uhh, happy new year?
> 
> Don't know what to write bc I'm tired as fuck right now. Ignore any typos or point them out.
> 
> Its 23:48  
> It's nearly 2021.
> 
> Stay safe and thanks for reading!


End file.
